Winchester Within: It Is What You Value
by triangular peg ticks all boxes
Summary: This story has a female O.C. and is a sisterfic, you've been warned. It might seem less Winchester-centric at first, but the boys will be in there, I promise. I just had to introduce the sister. Emily has lost her family and is adrift in a world that threatens her future. Destiny versus the Winchesters. Who will win?
1. Chapter 1

The door bell clanged loudly and Bobby threw his back out as he straightened up from his task. He was in his panic room painting a new sigil into the wall. Wincing in pain and grumbling with cringeworthy words he slowly made his way to the front door. He peeked through the window to see who was there. It was a woman. She had turned a little to the side so he couldn't see her face.

For a female, she was tall, only a few inches shorter than his 5'11" and was of medium frame. She was well put together. She was wearing a green military style jacket, its cuffs rolled to just below her elbows, over a short floaty cream dress cinched at the waist with a black belt. Beneath the dress were black leggings or maybe tights, he really didn't know the difference and he couldn't be bothered to find out. The outfit was completed with scuffed but expensive looking army-green biker boots. She had a black bag too, one of those satchel like ones. She did not wear it across her body like most kids did these days; instead she carried it over her left shoulder. She had a stack of colourful bracelets on her left wrist and on her right a black masculine watch. He was intrigued by this, as watches were generally dying out, with people using their phones to tell time. She looked harmless enough, but he had learnt years ago that looks were deceiving. He felt for the gun hidden by his flannel shirt and satisfied it was easily accessible, he reached for the door handle.

When the door opened, she turned round and extended her hand with a smile and a soft hello. Her outfit, the prim, stiff way she held herself and the polite but cool way she greeted spoke of an upper middle class upbringing. She had one of those intricate casual rings on her pinky finger.

"Christo!" he exclaimed.

Dropping her hand and frowning in confusion, she looked down at herself wondering what it was about her that had surprised the man so much that he'd had to say that. She had no way of knowing it was a test and that she had passed it.

Up close, he could see she was a girl. She was young, about fifteen or sixteen and very pretty. She would certainly grow to be a beautiful woman. Her olive skin was flawless as far as he could see and curly shoulder length black hair curtained an oval face with full lips and her small bumpy slightly upturned nose did not detract from her looks. He took this in quickly before looking into her eyes. Those wide amber, almond shaped eyes were sad but not haunted; this girl was definitely grieving, probably a new tragedy but she hadn't been touched by evil or horror. He had been around long enough to know that particular look. He wondered what she wanted. Usually when total strangers came to his door, they had haunted eyes, eyes that told him the person had seen something they could not explain, something that scared them shitless. Not this girl.

"Who are you?" he continued.

"My name is Emily. Emily Avis-Raines. I am looking for a John Winchester." She had a soft melodic lilting voice. He thought it went perfectly with her looks.

"Why? What do you want with him?"

The girl perked up immediately, and in a breathless excited voice she asked, "Do you know him? Because the lady I spoke to told me to come here. I…"

"Lady? Which lady?" his voice was suddenly loud and a little suspicious.

The girl jumped and started backing away slowly all the time looking at him warily out of those huge doe eyes. Out in the sun, her hair had fiery highlights. When she was a safe distance away she spoke, "A Miss Missouri Moseley."

Reassured by the name of the informant and regretting his outburst, Bobby grimaced, scratched the back of his neck then said, "I'm sorry. I'm not having the best of days; sorry I took it out on you."

The girl did not lose her wary look and did not get closer. Surprisingly, she didn't look scared and the way she now stood was different. She wasn't stiff anymore, she now held herself loosely, as if ready for a fight. Another person would not have noticed the subtle difference, but Bobby had. He was a hunter after all.

"Look, if you're looking for John, then it must be important. You tell me what it is and I'll be sure to tell him."

"Well," the girl suddenly became uncomfortable, hopping from one foot to another and biting her lower lip nervously. It was like she was suddenly reconsidering what she had come for. Bobby thought he had her mumble, "As if! I don't know you from Adam!"

"Spit it out kid!" he all but growled. She was making him nervous with her behaviour.

"I don't even know your name!" the girl suddenly exclaimed peevishly. "Miss Missouri just gave me directions to bring me here!"

This girl was a living paradox all right. She was cool and at once fiery, politely constrained and yet unpredictable and a little wild. Society had decreed she be a certain way and she had mostly conformed but underneath, she was tempestuous and spirited and unrestrained.

"It's Singer, I'm Bobby Singer. John Winchester is a friend of mine. Is that enough information for you?" this time he actually growled. "Now what the hell is this about?"

"He could be my biological father or he might be related to him!" she exploded abruptly. Bobby's jaw dropped. At his look she bit her lip again and then she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin in a defiant show and huffed, "Well, you asked!"

Bobby lifted his jaw off the ground and waved the girl into his house.

For the first time since he'd answered the door she looked unsure. "Umm I.."

"Oh for the love of God, I'm not going hurt you! If I wanted to I would have already!"

She cocked her head to the side as she considered his words then she walked back to him. She edged into the house sideways clearly not wanting to turn her back to him. Bobby could not help but be impressed. She wasn't an idiot. He shut the door.

Standing awkwardly in the tiny entryway he said, "So, would you like a cup of coffee or something?"

Again she began to shift nervously.

"Really? This again? You can come with me to the kitchen and supervise the proceedings!Make sure I don't poison you or something!" he groused.

She looked at him for a few tense seconds then suddenly her face broke out in a smile. When she smiled she went from pretty to cute, her eyes lit up and the corners wrinkled, her nose scrunched slightly and a dimple appeared in her left cheek. Bobby found himself smiling with her.

"I'm sorry. Guess I'm being a little paranoid and a lot dramatic!" she beamed.

"More like a lot paranoid!" Bobby said still smiling, "I don't blame you though, this place is a dump."

"No, it isn't. It's interesting. It's like a car museum out there!" she gestured animatedly. Her general bearing loosened as she relaxed. "I would love to take a walk through it!" she said.

Bobby chuckled. She made it sound like the yard was a garden or something! "You're a car enthusiast?"

"Big time! I love classic cars! I've got a …" When they got into the kitchen she stopped short as she took in the room.

Bobby went off to start the coffee machine. Then he noticed the silence and turned round. She was just standing there with her eyes huge and shiny and her mouth open in the shape of an 'o'. She was the very picture of impressed awe!

"This room is awesome!" she exclaimed when she saw him looking at her. "Is everything you own vintage, Mr. Singer? What are those phones for?" Then she took another step forward and turned to her left and looked straight into the study. "Oh wow, Mr. Singer! Are you a book collector too? Have you read them all?"

Bobby had never seen anyone this excited about his house. Sure many people were impressed by the number of books he had procured over the years, so his study did manage to get a few oohs and aahs but vintage was one word no one had ever called his kitchen with all its old appliances. Bobby was oddly touched and he found himself liking this strange girl.

"Geez why couldn't a cool kid like this come out of the shadows and claim he was her father?" he groused internally.

And that thought brought him back to the issue at hand. Shaking his head, he turned back to the coffee machine. He asked her how she liked her coffee. Her answer made him think of John again. He hadn't seen or heard from the stubborn bastard in ages but he definitely remembered he took his coffee black. Did this girl research this and just start taking black coffee? Did she somehow inherit John's taste? Had she acquired it growing up with someone who drank it just so? He knew he was thinking too much about a simple thing like a person's taste in coffee; after all, plenty of people took their coffee black!

They sat down at the table he had placed next to the phones. They sipped in silence, neither one wanting to start the conversation that they knew they had to have. Then in a slightly desperate move to say something, she asked, "What are all those phones for? And why are they marked that way?"

No way was he answering that! So he ignored the question and asked his own, "Why do you think John is your father?"

"Well, I got this letter from my mother that said he was." She answered without preamble.

"Letter? Your mother told you bout your father in a letter? Was she mute or something?"

"I've actually never met my mother. I was adopted at birth."

"What? And you trust this woman who gave you away? A woman who told you about your father in a letter? Are you a damn idjit?" Bobby knew he was being incredibly harsh but he just wasn't in the mood for such a wishy-washy explanation.

She sprang up from the chair so fast and so violently that it flew backwards and crashed to the floor.

"First you know nothing about my mother or the circumstances that led to my adoption, second, you know nothing about me, my instincts or my reasons for doing this and lastly, I only came to you for information on John not for insults or lectures or life lessons! Okay? Besides, I did not say I believed her, or disbelieved her, I just want to find out the truth about my parentage and this is where the information I have thus far has led me! If I had anything else to go on aside from this letter, trust me, I wouldn't be here!"

By the end of the tirade she had both hands planted on the table and her face was a few inches from his; her eyes flashing with anger. She took a huge breath, folded her shaking hands under her armpits and he could swear she physically gathered herself from the ends of her epic temper scale before adding in a controlled civil voice, "Thank you for the coffee."

She turned and began to stalk away.

Wow! Who knew a delicate looking thing like her had such a temper? And that such a melodic voice could manage to project such convincing fury?

Bobby couldn't help himself, he chuckled, "Wow, with that temper, I daresay you are his daughter! Now, sit your butt down and lets talk about this."

She stopped but just stood there breathing in and out, trying to calm herself down and it was nearly a minute before she squared her shoulders, turned around and walked back to the table. She picked up her chair and sat back down.

"Sorry, I got a bit irate." she said coolly. The fire blanketed with manners.

With a raised eyebrow, Bobby picked up on the word and added another detail to his profile of this girl; she was clearly well educated.

"Mmmm, I missed that!" he dead-panned.

Her expressive eyes lit up with a smile though her lips did not curl into one.

"So, can we start again from the top?" he placated. She nodded her acquiesce. "Do you have that letter you talked about?" Again she nodded. "Would you mind if I took a look at it?" She looked ready to say no so he preempted the refusal, "I have to see it before I tell John about you. The man is not known for his patience and I don't think he'll have much time for a letter."

For a second she looked like she was still going to argue with him but instead she reached inside her jacket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. She held it possessively.

"Umm, before I give you this, I just want to say that it's a little crazy but it's all I have as far as information about my father goes. So don't judge me for even considering it. You must understand that I did a lot of research hoping to not have to use this letter as a lead so this is the very last choice I had. I will understand if you read it and want nothing to do with me and I'll not hold it against you. However, I would really appreciate it if you don't withhold any information you may have. I will pay you by the way so it will not be for nothing."

Bobby's eyes widened in amazement and he idly wondered whether he would be able to catch her when she passed out because he was sure she had not paused even once, for breath.

The girl finally noticed his poleaxed look and shrugged sheepishly, "Sometimes my mouth gets a little carried away!"

"You don't say!" Bobby remarked drily.

She laughed loudly, a funny sound that bubbled from deep within and was even more infectious than her smile.

"Okay, one, you don't need to pay me even if I give you information which I am not saying I have. And two, can I have the letter now?"

"So how are we going to do this?" she asked waving at the letter after she had composed herself.

"I've got it kid," Bobby said gruffly. Her face fell. "Look, I think its best I go through this without you here to influence what I think, okay?" he tried to soften the blow.

"Oh! Yeeeeeah, that makes sense. I guess I'll go then and leave you to it. So erm, when do you think I should come back?"

"I'll give you a call. Leave me your number." She recited it, thanked him and got up to leave. "I'm not going to start on this right now so if you want another cup of coffee?" He found himself offering. For some reason he did not want her to go.

"Really?" her eyes shone with relief and gratitude. Clearly Bobby wasn't the only one needing a little company. He nodded. "Thank you," she breathed. Bobby was touched once again. Waving him down she took his and her cup and went to pour them more coffee.

"Don't thank me kid, I'm doing this for selfish reasons, trust me. The only company I usually have is a dog but even he has a social life. A friend of mine took him fishing."

"I haven't had much company myself!" She put down the cups and sat.

"You're just a kid! Where are your folks?" Bobby exclaimed.

He hadn't even once considered that the girl could be on this mission on her own. It was a Saturday so he had thought this was a quest she kept for weekends when she was not busy with school and that her parents had sanctioned the search and were a part of it. But with that last statement, he had to wonder. Did her parents even know what she was doing? Where she was? Shit, was she a runaway?

She dropped her eyes and her lip trembled for a few seconds before she spoke with a watery smile. "I don't know whether to be happy or insulted by that. I turned eighteen two months back!" She was quiet for a while then she took a deep breath and added in a strained whisper, "My parents died."

"I'm sorry kid," Bobby said in a warm sympathetic voice.

She half shrugged, then shook her head as if to clear it, bit her lower lip and when it looked like she had managed to get her emotions under control, a couple of tears fell down her cheek. She huffed softly and wiped them away impatiently, looked up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly. More fell and again she wiped them with a quick dash of a fist across her face.

Bobby stared down at his cup of coffee like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen, only looking up when she spoke.

"I'm sorry for blubbering. I assure you, I'm not usually all over the place like I am today. I have a lot more control over my emotions."

Blubbering? The kid had barely made a sound! "Everyone is allowed to lose control once in a while, besides, you're grieving and its allowed!' he said kindly.

"You're very kind Mr. Singer. But if I were in your shoes and this complete stranger came to my door and in the space of one meeting acted paranoid, then became downright gleeful before getting irrationally angry, then switched to wordy explanations and finally ended with a sob fest, I would be running for the hills!' she sniffed.

Bobby threw his head back and laughed. This kid was a riot, yes a little bipolar, but funny nevertheless. His laugh seemed to startle her, then she grinned at him.

She asked to use the bathroom so she could wash her face and when she returned, she found he had made sandwiches. Remembering her fascination with the salvage yard, Bobby suggested they eat outside. She readily agreed. They went out through the back door and sat down on the steps leading up into the house. She asked him questions about the wrecks, smiling at the outrageous stories of how he had acquired them.

"So what do you drive?" he asked.

She grinned and practically vibrated with joy. It was obvious she loved her car. He waited with bated breath. "You wanna see it?" she asked instead.

"Yeah sure. Where did you park anyway?"

"Just up the road." They set off out of the salvage yard. They got to the road and there were four cars parked on the side.

The girl turned to Bobby and grinned, "Can you guess which one is mine?"

He knew immediately which one it was; it totally suited her. Parked a little lower down the road was a dark green almost black '62 Lincoln Continental.

Bobby had seen his share of classic cars, heck he was intimately familiar with a certain '67 Impala but this car was at the top of his list of classics.

She handed him the keys and watched him circle and examine the car in silence. Then he opened it and went inside. On the inside the car was dark red, and just like the outside, it was beautiful, immaculately restored, and the modifications made to cater for modern tastes were understated and kept in line with the style of the car. Being a hunter, he couldn't help noticing and wondering about that the medallion hanging from the rearview mirror. It was a St. Christopher medallion. Did she knew its power or was its presence in the car just a lucky coincidence?

When he reluctantly got out of the car, he found her leaning against the passenger door behind the driver's, with a faraway look in her eyes.

"This is probably the most beautiful car I've seen!" he said truthfully. Dean would kill him if he heard this but it was true. The impala came a close second though.

She straightened up, off the car and physically shook herself out of the memory she had disappeared into before smiling at Bobby. "Thanks Mr. Singer. I was ten when mom got this. I loved it from the minute I saw it, long before it was anything to look at. Mom and I restored it together. It took months cos she's easily distracted! Dad tweaked it some after the restoration, said just because it was vintage didn't mean everything had to be old! You know, we painted it that colour because of him. Mom and I had not trouble deciding the inside colour. We agreed in a matter of seconds, but when it came to the outside, she wanted it black, I wanted it green. Dad suggested that colour, it's called Brunswick green, dad's a bit of a geek! I like it, cos at night and in dim light it kinda looks black but it's actually green."

Bobby noticed how she kept on weaving between tenses for her parents, knew it meant the loss had not been accepted yet. Her mind was yet to wrap itself around their absence. Bobby felt an ache in his chest for this girl who was virtually a stranger.

"Enough of this Mr. Singer business! Call me Bobby, surely after the range of emotions we've both displayed today, we should be on first name basis!"

She laughed and reached out a hand for her keys. "Well, I think I should get going. I've taken enough of your time as it is."

"I have enjoyed your company so we're even!"

"Thanks for everything."

"Yeah sure. Drive safe," he said as she got in the car.

"I will. See you," she drove off.

The walk back to his house seemed longer without company. When he got home, he snagged his phone and made a call.

"So, is she?"

"Is who what?" Missouri huffed

"Emily? Is she John's?"

"Bobby, is that junk yard rotting your brain? You of all people should know I can only read thoughts and sense energies. All I know is, that girl desperately wants to find her father and I can sense she's conflicted, she desperately hopes John is the one and yet she hopes he isn't. If he turns out to be, her world which has already been rocked will irrevocably collapse!"

"Why?"

"I don't know why exactly, but I think she found some information that she feels she must disprove in order to regain faith in herself. I also sensed a deep sorrow and self inflicted loneliness. She's scared of getting close to anyone."

They chatted for a few minutes before ending the call. He poured himself a shot of whiskey and unfolded the letter and began to read.


	2. Chapter 2

_I met your father when I was 23. I can see you rolling your eyes thinking that's plenty old and I should have been mature and world smart, but I wasn't. See I was pretty shielded and rather coddled which may surprise you seeing as I worked in my mother's bar from the time I turned fifteen but my mother is as unyielding as they come._

_Anyway this one evening in walks this sad but oh so handsome thirty something man. I was instantly drawn to him. My mother used to say I was always drawn to broody people and I guess she was right. I served him shots of whisky and when the place quietened down I sat down and talked to him. At first he was resistant but I can be persistent. I learnt his name was Gale, and he was just passing through the town. However, he returned to the bar the next night but I never got a chance to talk to him then because it was a busy night. But on the third night I got a chance and he immediately turned on the charm. He told me I was the reason he had not just passed through. He didn't say it like he was sprouting one of those pickup lines; he simply said it like a fact, completely disregarding it after he had said it. I was hooked. He asked if he could see me outside the bar. Of course I knew how to play coy and it was not until after a week that we went out on a date. He was sad and intense but I could always make him smile. I have to admit I felt heady with the power I seemed to have over him. He got a building job and seemed to have changed his mind about leaving. _

_A month from the day I met him, I was pregnant. I told him with trepidation but he was not angry or disappointed; in fact he picked me up and swung me around in joy. I was ecstatic. My mum on the other and was far from happy; she always looked at him suspiciously. She told me she wondered what his game was; what did he want from me. We didn't have a place of our own so he moved in with mum and me. She only allowed him to because I told her if she didn't let him, I would run away with him and she would never see me or the baby when it came. _

_Everything was great until I was three months along. He said to me and my mum during dinner and here let me quote, "My brothers and sisters called. I need to go home and sort out a few things." I asked him what the problem was but he did not elaborate and the next day he was gone just like that. For nearly two months I held on to the belief that he was going to return. Many times my mother wondered how she had managed to raise a fool child like me. I got tired of her words and I was sure that Gale was in trouble otherwise he would have returned. I decided it was up to me to find him. _

_I packed up one evening and left home without telling my mum. I'm sure she would have stopped me. Sometimes I wish I had told her and been stopped in my tracks. I was in over my head. Here I was a naive, pregnant woman with no clue where to start looking for the father of my child whom I realised I knew next to nothing about._

_Four months later I had given up the search, I was heavily pregnant and had run out of options, when he literary walked into my life. I was working a waitress gig in a run down diner in this little town called Gentryville in Indiana when he came in for breakfast with some guy. I was not supposed to be serving that section of the diner but I went over. He looked up at me and there was no recognition in his eyes. He just began to order in that deep calm voice of his. I lost it. I grabbed a glass of water from another patron's table and flung it in his face. He got up with a murderous look on his face. He asked what the hell was wrong with me. _

_The look on his face would have stopped anyone else in their tracks, but I was a hormonal woman scorned. I called him a bastard. Pointing at my huge belly, and trust me it was huge, I told him he was the reason for my condition. He looked at me like I was bat shit crazy. Said he'd never seen me before and it was the first time he was even going through the town. I raged at him. At that point the manager had been summoned by one of the other waitresses._

_Gale was no longer looking angry. He was looking perplexed and sympathetic, as if he was sorry for what I was going through. He talked like he was talking to a child. Said his name was John Winchester, and that I must have confused him for someone else. He sounded so sincere, it made me madder._

_I screamed at him, told him he was Gale Cursor and that I would know him anywhere!"_

_He turned to my manager, told him to get me some help then he turned to his friend, I remember he called him Daniel, and said they should leave and look a diner that did not double as an asylum! _

_As he turned to leave I saw red, how dare he call me mad! Without thinking I grabbed the knife that I always kept on my person and charged him. I cut his arm before I was grabbed by someone from the back. _

_He did not press charges against me, in fact he left town immediately after that but there had been enough witnesses so I was committed to an institution. You came along the very next day. And because I had been judicially declared mentally defective, you were adopted without my consent._

_It was my psychotherapist who suggested I write you a letter a day as part of my treatment. _

_I was released a month later and I immediately began looking for you. It was hard going; your records were sealed, adoptive laws in this country are a bitch to get past and you had been adopted by nonresidents of Indiana because you had been considered a hard-to-place child._

_By the time I located you, you were nearly six years old. I wrote to your adoptive parents and asked if I could meet you. They would not hear of it, not that I blame them given my history, so I sent all the letters I had written up to that point. They must have read them and decided they were harmless enough because they agreed I could keep writing to you. They also agreed to arrange a meeting between us if you ever requested it. It's been seven years, but I will not pressure you but I hope we'll meet and talk someday or at the very least you'll write me a letter. But until then, I'll wait, safe in the knowledge that your parents love you very much. I am glad you have been raised with love and pride and self worth and that your parents taught you self-control and discipline, something I wish I had. I really don't think I could have raised you as well as they have. _

_So there, my sweet girl, you know the story of your beginning. I'm sorry in some places my language was crude but knowing how protective your parents are, they will edit those bits. I love you always._

_P.S. I'm sorry I sent each month's letters in one package once a month but I needed to save on postage and besides I did not want my letters to feel like homework you had to do every day._

Bobby was staggered! The story was amazing in its absurdness! "Poor kid," he thought of Emily. Was it a need for family that had made her consider the words of a disturbed woman? Or was it something else? He'd talk to her tomorrow after he had had a good night's sleep to fortify himself.

He headed to his room and into the bathroom. As he had his shower he contemplated whether it would be more humane to tell the girl over the phone or tell her to her face. "Should probably just write a letter!" he thought with a rueful chuckle.

He got into bed but could not get the story out of his mind. So on a whim he decided to call Daniel.

"What are you calling me for at this time of the night, you old fart?" was Daniel's greeting.

"Who you calling old, you crotchety bastard?" Bobby answered back with a grin, "I need to know about a certain event. And you are just the man."

"Me? Bobby what have you been smoking? I' m the vampire expert, you're the one who is all about signs and events and such shit!"

"I know, I know, but this is about something that happened to John. Do you recall ever being in Indiana in a town called Gentryville about eighteen years back with him?"

"Gosh eighteen years ago? Mmmm, yeah, yeah, I remember. We were checking out some disappearances that looked like vampire attacks. Why?"

"Did something happen to John while the two of you were down there?"

"During the hunt? No! It was just a solo aswang, we got rid of it without any drama. The next morning though, we go to this diner for breakfast and John gets knifed by this pregnant waitress! She was crazy but hot as hell! All cheekbones and smooth olive skin! And legs for miles! Her ass …"

"Dan!" Bobby growled in warning.

"Oh, yeah! It was so random that it was fucking hilarious! John cursed the legendary Winchester luck that wouldn't let him escape a hunt without injury even though the injury had been inflicted after the actual hunt by a crazy hormonal woman!" Daniel chuckled.

"Balls!" Bobby said.

"What? What's going on?" Daniel seemed to realise Bobby was not finding any humour in the story.

"It's nothing to worry about but can you remember why she knifed him?"

"She said he was the father of her child. Crazy right? But it was a case of mistaken identity. She thought he was a guy called Gale Cursor!"

"Thanks Dan." Bobby hang up before Daniel could say anything else. "Shit! This is just great!" he thought.

Now he had to check the rest of the story for the sake of reassurance. But where would he start? Maybe he could try to locate the elusive Gale Cursor. But how? The letter's author had not said where the man had come from, she probably hadn't known having been with the man for only five months. Romantic idiot! He would have to talk to Emily, find out how much she knew. She had been on the quest for two months after all. She must have come across some information.

Bobby sighed, turned his bedside lamp off and went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oops, forgot to put this out there before. Supernatural and it's characters belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Emily is all mine though!**

Emily drove straight to her apartment. Throwing her bag on the couch, she went to her room, took off her jacket and dropped it on the bed. She bent and retrieved a butterfly knife from her left boot before unzipping and taking both boots off. The tights and dress joined the bag and the jacket. She then wore a pair of sweatpants and a tank and meandered back to the living room to get her iPod from her bag, leaving the earphones behind.

Returning to her room, she set the iPod to shuffle and docked it. Gathering her hair into a small ponytail, she did a series of exercises, using two water bottles as weights all the while wishing she had thought of packing her dumbbells. After the workout she stretched and casually looked herself over.

She was tall, toned and while she would never be considered fat, she was not skinny either. More than once, she'd been told she could be a model if she lost some weight. She scoffed, lose weight? What? People were too obsessed with skinniness! She liked her size just fine. She had no desire to blow in the wind, willowy was not a look she particularly wanted, thank you very much! Besides, she could never be a model! Just the thought was laughable. For one, she had a thing about people messing with her hair, the only time someone else touched it was during her one annual haircut. Second, she hated makeup; had tried it once when she was twelve and her face had itched and swelled up from an allergic reaction. Third, she barely ever sat still. Only when she was puzzling over a math problem could she sit still. Last and probably most important, she did not have a model's gait. With her energetic springy walk she would probably cover the span of a normal catwalk in seconds and walk into the models sashaying ahead of her. Besides, she had never worn heels, and would probably fall and break her neck if she did. That would make for an embarrassing headstone!

She soaked for an hour in the bath and got into bed.

She was just managing to fall asleep when 'Drift Away' by Dobie Gray began to play and with it came the memories.

Her parents had loved Dobie Gray with a passion. Laura always joked that she was originally attracted to Gray because of his name. The way they told it, he'd originally been partial to Dobie Gray's music but Laura's absolute love for it had changed his nonchalance to passion. Of course Emily didn't believe them because by the time she was old enough to be aware, they were both obsessed with the musician.

She'd had an idyllic childhood; grew up suburbia in Brisbane, San Francisco with two doting parents. They had told her when she was ten that she was adopted, but she had somehow already known, had simply not cared. She was so content with her life that not once had she asked about her biological parents, not even in passing! This was majorly surprising because she was a naturally inquisitive and intelligent child.

Everything changed when she was seventeen. Just weeks after her seventeenth birthday she'd been accepted into MIT. Her parents, not comfortable with her going off to a college so far away when she was still so young, were set to say no but after many discussions and just as many tantrums they agreed to attend orientation. She was glad they were both coming, though she complained about them treating her like a child.

They made a road trip of it to Massachusetts, a memorable eight day road trip with camping and sightseeing and laughter and general cheesiness. It was up there on her top-ten favourite moments list.

Orientation however was an overwhelming experience; most of the activities had her separate from her parents, there was too much information to digest, too many huge decisions to make, too may new people to acquaint with and even the food seemed different. Then there was the added stress of having a roommate. She had never shared a room, she did not know the rules of space sharing so she did what she usually did in such situations; she retreated into herself and boy did her roommate take advantage of her passivity!

Then orientation ended. Even though she had not been spending much time with her parents, she had been comforted by the fact that they were near. Now they were leaving; she was going to be completely on her own for the first time in her life.

She considered herself fairly independent, but had wanted to try out parental distancing and had applied to only faraway colleges for that very reason. Now, she was having misgivings! After waving her parents off with a quick, nonchalant hugs, an eye-roll and an I-am-seventeen-I-am-not-a-kid-I-can-look-after-mys elf grumble, she confidently swaggered to her room where she promptly cried into her pillow like a seven year old. She loved weekends but this one stretched dauntingly and endlessly in front of her. If she hadn't had a point to prove, she would have called her parents and if possible stayed on the phone with them until Monday. However, under no circumstances, would she be the first to crack. She was stubborn that way. Besides, her parents were big softies, so she knew it wouldn't be long before they called.

On Monday, she gave herself a silent pep-talk but it was the message she found on her phone that got her out of bed.

It was from her parents who informed her they were currently in New York taking in the sights. At times they spoke simultaneously, other times they spoke over each other and there was much laughing and a little swearing in places but she got the gist of the message loud and clear; they loved her, they missed her, they were damn proud of her, they wished her well and did they mention they loved her?

With a lighter heart and a huge grin she headed for her classes. She was euphoric all through her first lecture and when an older student came in and had her excused during her second class, she did not think anything of it.

When they got to the office, the girl knocked, opened the door and left her with the dean's secretary. The secretary in turn informed the dean and Emily was summoned into the huge office.

When she saw the room's occupants, her heart stopped. The dean was seated behind the desk with a stricken look on his face; the woman and man who were both standing, turned to face her as she walked in. Both had passive, guarded looks on their faces.

Without asking, she immediately knew they had bad news.

"Please have a seat," the dean said.

"Just tell me," Emily completely ignored him and addressed the standing pair instead.

"First, have a seat," the woman repeated the dean's request more firmly.

Under different circumstances, Emily would have remained standing, just for the hell of it. This time, she sat. The woman introduced herself as Sylvia Waters, a Family Liaison Officer and her colleague as Officer Peter Jones. Then she went ahead and shattered Emily's world.

"We're sorry to inform you that your parents Laura Avis and Gray Raines were killed last night."

"What? You guys must have made a mistake! I just got a voice mail from them this morning!" Emily even chuckled.

"I'm sorry, they were positively identified at the scene."

Emily was not listening; she was busy searching through her bag. She retrieved her phone found the message and played it.

"See? I got that this morning! How could they have sent that if they're dead? They are fine!" her voice was high and borderline hysterical.

The woman's stoic but sympathetic silence and the officer's fidgety movements spoke more than any words could.

Emily took a deep breath, shook her head and when she spoke, it was in an oddly unsettling composed voice, "So now what?"

The officer looked thrown; being a bad news bearer was obviously a first for him. The woman on the other hand stayed passive; this was not her first ball game.

"Well, Officer Jones here will return to his duties but its my job to provide you with any support I can until you're no longer in my jurisdiction at which time another liaison officer will be appointed for you or until your guardian is named and located whichever of the two situations occurs first."

"Any support?" Emily said in the same eerily calm voice.

"Yes. I'll help you pack if you want, figure out what to do about your classes, be your driver, get you information and even counseling if you request it. I'll keep you away from the media if need arises and I'll help with the logistics of transportation and everything in between."

"Okay," Emily cocked her head slightly then said, "I'll not need help with the packing but the class thing would be appreciated. Excuse me."

She got up and left the room. She could never say how she got to her dorm. She just found herself there. She packed only one small suitcase. A knock at the door made her shut off her phone, she had been repeatedly listening to the voice mail.

"Ready to go?" Sylvia asked. Her tone kind but professional.

Emily nodded. She carried her laptop and Sylvia carried the case outside to her car. By the looks of things she and Officer Jones had not driven over together. They set off with Emily practically hugging the passenger door as though she was trying to be as physically far from Sylvia as she could in the small space of the car. She stared out the window though she saw nothing.

"You said they were killed. Was it an accident?" she suddenly asked. They had been driving for about forty-five minutes.

Sylvia's head snapped up but Emily knew it was not in reaction to the question but to the suddenness of the asking. This woman was clearly a bad news bearer pro!

"No, it wasn't an accident. It was more an incident." She glanced over at Emily and seeing the look on her face continued gently, "it was a murder-suicide. I'm sorry."

Emily was stunned. It did not make sense. Her parents had sounded happy on that voice message. How could they have gone from that to murder-suicide in the space of hours? Who had killed who? Mom? Dad? No, he was a pacifist! He would never fire a gun. So it was mom? She loved dad, she would never? But it was possible … no it wasn't! It was crazy to even think that way. No, there had to be another explanation. Maybe they had been mugged. Yeah, that was it. They had been mugged. That made more sense, after all it was New York. Yeah, that made sense. She did not see the worried looks Sylvia was giving her.

Emily was not reacting how Sylvia had expected. Yes, she knew people reacted differently to bad news, yes, she knew shock was one of those reactions, but this was a seventeen year old girl. Typically, teenagers, especially girls reacted to bad news by breaking down. They were emotional and hormonal, so they cried, and sobbed before going into shock. This one had had about a second of denial and was now in this rather rational phase that might be shock. Well, Sylvia was not a therapist, she was not touching this. If the girl needed a therapist, she would get one for her.

"Wanna stop for lunch?" she asked a few hours later.

"Thanks, but I'm not really hungry," Emily replied evenly.

New York was only bearable because Sylvia handled every detail just like she had promised. By the time they arrived, the deceased had already been identified through dental records that had been sent over from San Francisco but Sylvia handled the rest; the police and their already closed investigation, the retrieval and subsequent transportation of the bodies, car and personal items. Emily stayed with Sylvia who had explained it was not standard procedure but she had asked that Emily stay with her, arguing with her superiors that Emily was not only a minor but a New York nonresident too and was not equipped to handle such a trying time from a hotel room.

Though Emily never said it, she was grateful for Sylvia.

Soon it was time to leave New York; everything that needed handling from there was resolved and she had to go home to handle the rest.

Sylvia drove her to the airport. Her guardians had been located and were going to pick her up at San Francisco International Airport. The flight was too short; before she knew it, she was in San Francisco.

And there was Betty Martin! "Oh you poor poor child!" she exclaimed loudly with huge crocodile tears in her eyes.

What the hell? This woman was her guardian? What had her parents been smoking the day they decided this?

"Jackie and Wade are getting in this evening. There were some issues with their flight so I offered to come get you!" the woman continued.

"Oh thank, Pythagoras!" Emily thought with relief, "Hello Miss Martin, thank you for meeting me," she said with exaggerated politeness.

"Oh don't thank me child, it was the Christian thing to do!"

Yeah right, this from a woman who regularly though discreetly and sweetly told her parents that they would burn in hell because they were agnostic, despite their being kind and upstanding citizens. She also just as sweetly called Emily a poor, poor child because she was being raised by disgusting sinners!

Emily would have loved to call the woman out, but she held her tongue. She did not say a word during the drive, not that Betty noticed with her monologuing! She spoke about her parents' deaths with undisguised triumphant moral fervor. Emily wondered what would happen if she threw herself out of the car.

When they got to the Martin house, she wished she had indeed thrown herself out of the car! There were people everywhere; a few she knew and liked but way more strangers. She greeted as many people as she could, numbly receiving their condolences for a loss she hadn't even accepted yet. When an opportunity presented itself, she slipped out the door and walked home.

She let herself into the house using the spare key. The house was exactly the same as when they had left it to go to Massachusetts only now it felt hollow. She went straight to her parents' room and got into their bed. She didn't plan to sleep but she must have been more exhausted than she thought, because the ringing of her phone startled her awake. She glanced at the caller ID and smiled. "Jackie!"

"Em? Honey, are you okay? Where are you?"

"I walked home. Sorry, I should have told someone."

"Yes, you should have, you had us so worried! I don't blame you though. You must have been overwhelmed coming off a flight and into an ambush. Betty should have waited, given you a chance to rest and the people she invited should have known better. And to not even notice you were missing! The nerve! Now stay right where you are, Wade and I will be over soon."

Emily smiled for the first time in days. As if she could go anywhere!

They got there in ten minutes.

"You walked from Betty's to here?" Wade was amazed. "You're one fit cookie!" He hugged her and kissed her cheek.

Emily smiled some more. "Is it far? I didn't notice!"

Jackie hugged her as well. "Hello sweetheart, how are you holding up?"

"I am just glad you are here." Emily sank into the hug.

Jackie and Wade had gone straight to Betty's from the airport and from there to here. They had been visiting their daughter in Australia when they had got the calls from the police and the lawyer. They had had to cut their holiday short.

Emily was glad her parents had chosen this couple as her guardians. They were in their mid-fifties, having had their daughter Jade while they were still quite young. They had moved next door six years earlier after their then 28 year old daughter met and married an Australian man and moved to Brisbane. They got a kick out of telling people they lived in a town with the same name as the one their daughter lived in, a world away. Emily fondly thought they were dorks.

Emily moved into their house but still had access to her house. It gave her comfort to live so close to the house she loved but without having to live in its new hollowness.

Her parents' funeral was three days later. It was a beautiful non-fussy affair, that suited both Laura and Gray perfectly. Emily tearfully said goodbye to her parents, reading "A Coffin is a small Domain" by Emily Dickinson who had been Gray's favourite author;

_A Coffin is a small Domain,  
Yet able to contain  
A Citizen of Paradise  
In it diminished Plane._

_A Grave is a restricted Breadth,  
Yet ampler than the Sun  
And all the Seas He populates  
And Lands He looks upon._

To Him who on its small Repose  
Bestows a single Friend  
Circumference without Relief  
Or Estimate or End.


	4. Chapter 4

Laura and Gray's last testimonials were read a week later; she inherited nearly everything, no surprises there. Neither one had anyone else to leave their money and assets to. Gray Raines had been an only child whose parents had died a few months apart five years back and Laura Avis had a father and sister that she hadn't spoken to in years. So Emily got the house, the cabin in Utah, the cars, the stocks, the bonds and the money less what was given to charity and to Jackie and Wade and a few other random people she barely knew and less the inheritance tax whatever that was. Everything but the house and cars was to be held in trust until she turned 18. The lawyer also handled the canceling of all subscriptions and memberships her parents had had. Which was great because nothing sucks more than getting a dead parent's mail.

For days after, Emily just pottered about the house, until Jackie decided to intervene. "You have to do something Em. You could go back to school or go volunteer at an animal shelter or something. Heck, go sort out your house!"

Emily thought about it. School and volunteering meant people, and she wasn't yet ready to face the world away from Jackie and Wade so she chose to tackle the house.

She gutted the lower floor first because emotionally it was easier to clear. She had a virtually free garage sale for her neighbours and donated what remained. The only things she kept were some books from the study, Gray's laptop and the piano from the den, she loved that piano! It was transferred next door. Wade was so excited to see the instrument in his house which made Jackie and Emily laugh uproariously because Wade was tone deaf and couldn't play any instrument to save his life.

The second floor was not as easy. Sure her room was a piece of cake. She had gone over her room before heading for college so nearly everything she had left in there was dispensable. She held on to the pictures, a few odds and bits, some of the clothes and shoes and gave everything else to charity.

Her parents' room, which she tackled last, was another story altogether. It wrenched every emotion from her. One minute she'd be giggling at something she found and the next silent tears would be snaking down her face. Jackie and Wade didn't help like they had with the downstairs rooms. They said the experience would be cathartic for her. By the time Emily had sorted everything into keep and give away boxes, she was an exhausted wreck. The room had taken her three days to clear. As she turned to look at it for probably the last time, her eyes fell on the painting next to the switch. She might as well take that down, some hospital waiting room somewhere could use it. That is how she discovered the safe nestled in the wall.

Her mouth fell open in amazement. Immediately she tried to open it. She used her parents' birthdays, her own birthday, various combinations of the three birthdays, the day they met and finally when she used the combination of the date they met and the date they adopted her, the thing clicked open.

"That was real sappy guys!" she laughed with fondness. She grabbed the box inside, stumbled a bit, placed it on the floor, checked there was nothing else in the safe, reset the combination to five zeroes and closed the steel door.

Sitting on the floor next to the box, she opened it with anticipation. She grabbed the envelope marked ten and opened it. That was when her world tilted off its axis for the second time.

As she realised what she was reading, she stopped and rifled through the box again finding the envelope marked one. "Best to read this chronologically," she thought.

She sat there reading for hours, not noticing the time as the words in the letters filled her world. It was only when a concerned Jackie came looking for her that she stopped.

She lugged the box next door and to her room. She wanted to continue where she had left off but she had to sit through dinner and it was her turn to do the dishes. She was so distracted, she broke a glass. Jackie thinking she was wrought with emotion from finishing with the house excused her from the duty. She practically run up the stairs.

She read into the night. When she finished, she felt drained. The sense of betrayal was dominant accompanied by anger and sadness. She could not believe the people she had loved and trusted had kept this from her. True she had never asked about her biological parents, but her biological mother had reached out to her and for all these years her parents had kept the woman hoping for redemption by taking her letters but not delivering them to Emily. No wonder the poor woman, Celeste had gone mad. It was amazing though how she had successfully confined the madness to paper, because as far as Emily could tell, she had not been committed except for that one time. Celeste had stopped writing though, there had been no letters after the one sent on Emily's seventeenth birthday. Had her parents put a stop to it? Or had Celeste's madness finally spilled out of the letters and she had been committed? There was no way to tell.

For days Emily was unusually quiet, having retreated inside her head to think. Jackie and Wade did not know what to think of it but they knew if she needed them, she would let them know so they gave her space. They leased the now empty house and got a buyer for Gray's car. Emily was keeping the Continental. She was attached to that car, a lot of love had gone into it.

After a few days of obsessing, Emily reached a decision. While she was still a minor and under guardianship, there was not much she could do except research but as soon as she turned eighteen, she was going to find her mother and give her the redemption she had wanted for so long. If possible, she would find her father, this John Winchester person who had led to her mother's misery in the first place. It was a sketchy plan at best but despite being precocious, she was still a naive, overly optimistic seventeen year old girl.

So for months she tried to gather information, using proper, legal means, though she could have dug deeper if she wanted. She had the skills after all. Jackie and Wade were happy to see her invested in life again though it worried them that she was pouring all her energy into such a project. She told them she was looking for her biological parents. They feared that at best she wouldn't find them and at worst she would, but they wouldn't want her. Emily never told them about the letters.

She stuck around for exactly one week after her eighteenth birthday and that was only because she had things to sort and paperwork to sign. The lawyer was adamant about this.

She took the box, a few keepsakes, her dad's laptop and hers and a duffel of clothes, having planned to get the rest from school when she swung by. She got into her car, promised Jackie and Wade that she would be safe, and that she would keep in touch. In her mind, it was going to be a sort of cathartic road trip that would end soon enough and she would return to school.

She drove to Fresno to the last address she had for her mother only to be informed that the woman had left nearly a year earlier. Emily drove to Eros where she was pointed to her maternal grandmother's bar by the very first person she asked. The meeting had been as underwhelming as her grandmother was overwhelming. The woman was beautiful in an intimidating way; she kind of reminded Emily of Sophia Loren. She had looked at Emily for ages, smiled and then moved one step closer, stopped, frowned and asked her to leave.

"What is her problem?" Emily huffed as she stood outside the bar glaring at the closed door.

"She's always been strange but has been in a right tizzy since her daughter died! Don't say I blame her," a tiny old man seated outside spoke.

"Her daughter died? When? How?" Emily knew she coming off as insensitive and ill-mannered but she was so thrown by this turn of events she could not stop herself.

"Celeste, that's her daughter run off eighteen years ago and never returned. She was pregnant too. The baby daddy had skipped the joint earlier!" the old man was a fountain of unrequested information. "Well, about ten months ago Cece gets a call telling her Celeste died. She died in a psychiatric hospital in Bakersfield. Cece lost it. Mind you she was never right from the day Celeste took off, said the devil was to blame for her defection! Say, if I tilt my head just so you kinda look like Celeste! Maybe that is why Cece threw you out!"

Emily was stumped. Celeste had been in Fresno as of the date of sending the last letter, which had been sent on Emily's seventeenth birthday, then she had disappeared without her neighbours knowing where she had gone to. Then she had died just a couple of months later in a mental hospital in Bakersfield which was just an hour away from Fresno. Who had taken her to Bakersfield? How had she died?

Emily gave the man a twenty dollar note, figuring he was going to drink it all later that night, and got into her car. She reached in the back seat for the directory she had tossed there and found the number for the only psychiatric hospital in Bakersfield. She had to bluff and bullshit to get the information she wanted. Apparently her mother had slit her wrists. That had sent a slice of fear and doubt in her heart. However, she was determined not to panic. People committed suicide all the time. It was not unusual. Right?

She hadn't wanted to do this … ignorance was bliss after all, but she had to. She had a nagging feeling that would not leave her alone now, so she drove until she found a private wireless network that wasn't password protected. Using the skills Gray had introduced her to and told her never to use … yeah right, she got into the NYPD database and found the report on her parents' deaths. It stated that Gray had shot Laura through the forehead before turning the gun against himself. It was ruled a murder-suicide because no evidence was found to show otherwise. Emily couldn't breathe, and why was her bloody heart thundering in her ears? She had to drop her head between her knees before the black spots in front of her eyes disappeared.

Gray was a pacifist. He probably didn't even know how to fire a gun. Also, the report showed that he hadn't fired it from a distance, no, he had held the gun right to Laura's forehead as she sat on the couch watching TV. What? Laura would not have gone down without one hell of a fight and Emily knew without a doubt who would have won a fight between Laura and Gray. Laura was lethal. Blond, big blue-eyed, easy smiling Laura, was small but deadly. She was a U.S. Marshal and a member of the Special Operations Group after all. The report also stated that Gray had sat down next to Laura and shot himself through the right temple. Gray was ambidextrous so it was possible he could have shot himself with his right hand, but Emily knew, his left was his predominant hand and he used it more than his right. In a charged situation like a murder-suicide, he would have used the hand he was more comfortable with. Gray should have shot himself in the left temple. It truly would have been more plausible for Laura to shoot Gray and not the other way round.

Emily hadn't believed what Celeste had written in the post thirteenth year letters, but now, the coincidence of her three parents' deaths was scary enough to make her reconsider her thoughts and feelings about her mother's mental state. The deaths of course could be awful coincidences, having nothing to do with Celeste's crazy letters, because really, those letters were out there crazy, but what if they weren't coincidences? What if there was some truth to the things Celeste had written? Supernatural things? Good heavens, that was crazy! No, there was a very logical reason to everything. Like insanity running in the family or something. Well, whatever it was, she urgently needed to find her biological father. Because in that last letter, her mother had told her to find him. The sooner the better, and before her twenty-first birthday. Fine, why not? She would find him, only for the sake of knowing him, not because she needed protecting. Her trip had gone from cathartic to myth busting. Even better!

She drove to MIT and grabbed her larger suitcase, and her beloved guitar from her room leaving nearly everything else with her gaping roommate. She was going to be on the road, she certainly didn't need pots, or plates or dishes or a pitcher, though she made sure to grab her precious portable coffee maker and her coffee mug and the tiny microwave Laura the food enthusiast but poor cook had found. She had no need and no space for the mini fridge, the kettle, or the lamp or the five pillows she had arranged on her bed though she did take the comforter just in case. As for the furniture, that was a no brainer; it was going nowhere. Everything she took could have fitted perfectly in the trunk but she kept the beloved guitar in the passenger side footwell with her laptop. Then she drove off to an uncertain future.

And she had been on the road ever since. Mourning her parents while looking for the man who had sired her.


	5. Chapter 5

Bobby kept himself purposefully busy for hours before calling Emily and asking her to come over if she could. She was at his front door in precisely sixteen minutes. He wondered where she had spent the night, and how safe she was there. After a quick greeting, she went straight to the point. "So what did you think of the letter?"

Bobby nervously shifted from one foot to another. Now she was here, he didn't know how to tell her she was nuts.

"Don't worry, you can say it. It's crazy."

"Yes it is but I'm saying this only because I know John and no way could he do something like that to any one. No offense to your mother."

"Yeah, I figured as much. There isn't even an infinitesimal bit of reason to her madness?" her shoulders fell but her eyes shone with relief. Dejected and yet elated.

"Weird kid!" Bobby thought and gosh did she use big words! "Well actually a part of her letter checked out." Bobby admitted.

"What? So there is a chance she was not all crazy?" Emily really wanted to find her father, but she was not sure she wanted to.

Bobby's eyes narrowed a little. How and why was she doing that? Sounding both crushed and hopeful at the same time? "Well, … the part that checks out is the part where she physically demonstrated her craziness, you know the part where she knifed John, so I don't know whether that's a good thing."

"So maybe she mistook John for Gale, maybe John looks exactly like Gale, maybe they're brothers or something!"

"John has no siblings."

"Well, there must have been a reason why she fixated on him, there has to be!"

"I'm sorry, kid, but you just might have to face the fact that your mother was buckets of crazy!"

Emily's eyes widened with hurt. Bobby's heart clenched.

"You have been great. Thank you so much for your consideration. I really appreciate that you took the time out for me," the girl's voice wobbled badly but she still got the words out. She took a deep breath and continued. "Could I have my letter back, please?" she asked politely.

Those eyes, that voice, the brave successful struggle to stay in control were Bobby's undoing.

"Well, there is something else I can try," he offered.

"Yeah?" the girl said emotionlessly.

"Yeah. But it won't help you find your father. All probably going to do is prove that John ain't the one. Then maybe I can try to use my contacts to help you find Gale Cursor. Can I hold onto the letter for a while?"

"Sure," she said.

"Something else too...'

"What?"

"I need to pluck a few hairs from your head."

"What?" finally there was an ember of life back in the girl's voice.

"As a sample for a DNA test!"

"Oh! Okay."

She stood quietly as he plucked the hairs. She stayed long enough to have a cup of coffee with him but he could tell she was not really in a socializing mood. She left soon after.

Bobby took a calming breath and debated about who to call. John would probably not answer as the last meeting between him and Bobby had ended spectacularly badly. Dean was most likely with his father and even though by some slim chance he wasn't, he wouldn't take the request kindly. Sam was away at college and would probably not appreciate the distraction.

Still of the three, Sam was the best bet. John would explode long before the end of the tale, never waiting for the request and Dean who believed his father could do no wrong would take his father's side in a heartbeat. Bobby dialed the number from memory. However the person who answered was not the person Bobby was trying to reach.

"Dean? Why do you have Sam's phone? Is he okay?"

"He's in the bathroom. Bobby, he's not okay!" Dean said sadly and in a low voice, probably not wanting Sam to hear him.

"What happened? Did something get to him?"

"No, not him. His girlfriend … she … she was killed. She died the same way mum did; she burst into flames pinned to the ceiling in their apartment. Sam was there … I pulled him out." Dean gulped before he continued, "He won't talk about it. He wants to find dad so he can hunt down whatever did it. I don't know what to do Bobby. Sam always wants to talk about stuff, its his way of dealing."

"When did it happen?"

"Last night."

"Its probably too soon to expect him to talk about it, Dean. He will come around. It's good you are there with him and its damn lucky you were there last night."

"Yeah. It was close, too close," the shakiness in Dean's voice testament to just how close it had been.

There was a long silence as Bobby digested that statement. Then he asked, "How come you were there? Where is your daddy?"

"Dad took off, I haven't heard from him in a while! I came and got Sam to help me look for him. We didn't find him but we took down a Woman in White; actually Sam did, by driving my baby into this old house, cheeky little shit!" Dean allowed himself a fond chuckle before continuing the story, "Then I dropped Sam off at his apartment and drove off. But then the radio started going crazy and I noticed my watch had stopped. And I got this feeling that I had to get to Sam so I turned around and drove back. I was too late to save Jessica but I got Sam out!"

"I hope you are not blaming yourself boy!" Bobby exclaimed knowing he was being redundant. Carrying blame was the Winchester way after all.

"It is my fault, Bobby! If I had not taken Sammy away for the weekend, Jessica wouldn't have died since Sam would have been there to save her. Maybe if I hadn't driven away so quick after dropping him off I would have reached the apartment in time to save them both."

"Listen to me boy, it was not your fault. You blame the evil son of a bitch that killed that girl."

Dean was quiet. Bobby knew he would never absolve himself.

"So Mother-hen, how often do you call Sammy?" the boy changed the topic.

"Ummm, I check on him once a month. But this wasn't one of those check in calls," there was a heart beat of silence before Bobby continued, "there is something I needed to discuss with him."

"Wanna tell me about it? Cos I think me and him are going to be together for a while."

"You boys come over to my place, this needs your physical presence!"

"Whoa that sounds equal parts kinky and scary! The shower has turned off, Sam should be out in a few minutes. We'll call you right back."

"So now you're my secretary as well!" Sam asked when he walked out of the shower. He was wearing just his jeans and toweling his hair. "So who was it?"

"Bobby. You didn't tell me he calls you regularly."

"Once a month isn't regularly Dean! What did he want?"

"He wants us to drive by his place. Didn't say why."

"Hope you told him we can't!"

"What? Why would I do that? We are going!"

"Dean, we have to find dad. We have to go to Colorado, to Blackwater Ridge! The coordinates, remember?"

"Yeah, I know."

"So call Bobby and tell him we can't go see him."

"You call him!" Dean huffed. He had been hoping Sam would accept the detour. He really needed his brother to decompress and what better place to do that than at Bobby's. He didn't think his stubborn, zealous and militant father was the best companion for his stubborn but sensitive, heartbroken brother.

Well, maybe if they caught up with their dad in Colorado he'd allow them to take a break and they could drive from there to South Dakota.

"We'll set off after breakfast so you'd better shag ass!"

Sam finished dressing up and called Bobby to tell him about the development.

"I'll be here whenever you boys do decide to drop in and tell your daddy I won't shoot him if he decides to show as well! Sam, I'm sorry about Jessica."

"Thanks Bobby." Sam was subdued.

* * *

Five days later Bobby heard the familiar rumble of the impala in the backyard. He opened the door as the boys reached it carrying their duffle bags.

"Hey guys. Thought you were meeting up with your dad?"

"So did we!" Sam said bitterly.

"He wasn't there?" Bobby asked.

"From the looks of things, he never was." Dean answered.

"But the Wendigo sure made up for his absence! I mean they have the same communication skills! All grunts and no words!" Sam was clearly still unhappy about the events in Colorado.

"A Wendigo? Are you boys okay?"

"Dean was hurt but he won't admit it!"

"I'm okay. The thing just held me too tight, bruised a few ribs."

"This is all dad's fault!" Sam seethed.

"Sam!" Dean warned.

"Dean, stop defending the man. He sent us after a Wendigo... actually he doesn't know I'm with you so to all intents and purposes he sent YOU ... alone, after a Wendigo and he hasn't called to check whether you are fine. Whether you made it out of there alive!"

"That's because he knows I'm fine."

"What? How? You guys have a telepathic link I'm not aware of?" Sam's sarcasm was scathing.

"Because he trained us well."

"So what? He's still our father, he should check up on us, check up on you no matter what. I mean even commanding officers check on their subordinates! And it was a Wendigo! No one hunts those things alone!"

Dean didn't say anything to that because he secretly agreed with Sam. He also didn't miss the fact that Sam changed 'us' to 'you'. Instead he turned to Bobby. "So whats with the meet and greet Bobby?"

"Geez, at least have a bath and a bite. Emphasis on the bath!" Bobby laughed. He knew enough about Winchesters to know a changed subject meant the discussion was over.

Sam laughed. Dean grinned mostly because he loved hearing Sam laugh. He had missed that laugh.

They carried their bags to their rooms, cleaned up and ate and as Bobby washed up after they told him about the woman in white and the wendigo hunt. Somehow they managed to make both hunts sound funny despite how serious they had been. Bobby was particularly tickled by Dean yelling at the wendigo, "Hey, you want some white meat, bitch! I'm right here!"

Much later as they were lounging in the den having a drink, Dean asked his question again. In answer Bobby trotted to his study and returned with the letter which he handed to Dean. Sam read it over his brother's shoulder.

They must have read the letter through twice because it was a while before they raised their heads. There was silence for a minute then Dean exploded.

"What the hell! What is this?" he asked waving the papers around furiously. "Where the hell did you get this Bobby? And why the hell are you showing it to us?"

"First off, simmer down, its not like those are instructions on how to build an atomic bomb or anything! Now to answer the only relatively sensible question you asked, I got it from the kid it was written to. Her name's Emily,"

"What does she want?" Sam asked.

"To meet John."

"Why? Because of this letter? This letter was clearly written by a mad woman! This is absurd!" Dean snorted.

"Trust me, the kid knows that. Her actual word was preposterous!" Sam raised an eyebrow at that. Bobby smiled at his reaction. "Yeah, I know! And I'm not kidding, she used that word! And infinitesimal too!"

"Can we focus here!" Dean bellowed, annoyed that the other two were dissecting the girl's vocabulary which was clearly not the issue right now. "What does she want with dad exactly?"

"Well, the kid is convinced there must be a reason why her mother thought John was this Gale guy. And to further her case, the Gentryville incident actually happened. I called Daniel and he confirmed it. So she believes if her mother told the truth about that, then maybe she told the truth about it all."

"So let me get this straight, she thinks either John is really Gale or is his doppelgänger?" Sam sounded like he was really trying to understand what was going on.

Dean on the other hand had skipped the logical phase and headed straight to the emotional one. "Stop sugarcoating it Bobby. The kid thinks dad is this bastard who lied to a woman for months and then abandoned her when she was pregnant with his child."

"I wouldn't say it like that!" Bobby argued.

"So how would you say it?"

"I would say she's looking for her father and John is her only lead. There is a difference."

"No, there isn't. I hope you told her to shove off!"

"Dean, that's really insensitive!" Sam exclaimed.

"Gosh Sam, this is dad we're talking about!"

"I know, Dean. We know him. We know he's not this person, but this kid, she doesn't. All she has is this weird letter and a missing father she's trying to find. She has to believe something, however absurd it is."

Dean took several calming breaths. "Okay, Mr. Sensitivity, I see your point. The kid I can understand. But what is your excuse Bobby?"

"Ya damn idjit, you think I didn't defend your dad? I told Emily that John was a lot of things, but he was not the man described in the letter."

"And?" Sam prompted.

Bobby shrugged, "And she turned these big sad eyes upon me and I found myself telling her I would get her evidence." Dean opened his mouth but before he could speak, Bobby cut him off, "Evidence that John was not her father!"

"Oh!" Sam understood immediately. "That is why you called me!"

"Yes, I knew John would blow a gasket and Dean would be affronted at the thought of John's honour being questioned but you, I knew your empathy would let you see it from the kid's side and not just yours or your dad's or Dean's."

Dean looked at his brother and found himself smiling despite everything. "That's only because he is a big girl!" he teased, but he was happy. He knew Bobby was right in his appraisal. Sam could always be counted on to empathetic! The kid wore his big heart on his sleeve and in those damn eyes. That was one of the many things Dean loved about his brother.

Sam just rolled his eyes at Dean. "You want me to provide a sample for a DNA test don't you?" he asked Bobby.

"Yeah. We can do a reverse paternal test. It's the only thing I could think of."

"As long as you don't intend to use my hair!" Sam said.

Dean laughed. His brother had an unnatural attachment to his hair. He fondly remembered Sam's first hair cut.

The kid had been excited to go to the barber's because Dean had made it seem like an adventure. However as soon as their dad placed him in the chair and stepped back, Sam's excitement had vanished. Dean had had to sit with him and hold him in the chair because not even their father's orders could make the kid stop sobbing and wriggling. Sam had absolutely loved the cape that the barber put around them both but had closed his eyes tightly at the sight of the scissors and all through the trim. When he opened them and saw the hair on the floor, it was like a part of his soul had been torn off. He scrambled out of Dean's arms and off the chair, got onto the floor and began to collect the hair with silent tears rolling down his face the whole time. Tears that had broken Dean's heart. When he had collected all the hair he went over to Dean and gave it to him and begged him to put it back. "Please Dean, please. I'll let you play with my toy soldiers." Dean had nearly began to cry himself. He explained the hair would grow back but Sam did not want the new hair. He wanted his old hair, the one he'd had already. The only thing Dean could do was hold the kid until his tears stopped. Their father had just stood there not knowing what to do.

Dean's smile fell at the memory of their father and his inability to parent.

"I wouldn't dream of touching your hair, Princess!" Bobby teased. Sam smiled.

"Do you need a sample from me too?" Dean asked. For some reason he was feeling left out.

"Yes, of course, after all, the more the samples the better the calculations." Bobby said. Dean could not tell whether he was just being kind or was telling the truth.

"Okay, let's get this show on the road!" Dean exclaimed.

"Not too fast Ace, its best to wait for at least an hour after eating or drinking anything other than water before collecting a sample. So I was thinking I'll get them tomorrow morning as soon as you drag your butts out of bed."

"Fair enough." Dean shrugged.

They sipped their beers in companionable silence for a while before Sam spoke, "So Bobby, will she be showing up?"

"Who Emily? You want to meet her?" Bobby hadn't even considered that. He should have known better, Sam Winchester could never emotionally remove himself from a problem.

"What? NO!" Dean spurted indignantly.

"Why not?" Sam was genuinely puzzled by Dean's vehement refusal.

"Why not? Remember when you were ten and you found that stray puppy in a gutter? I remember you named it Froth!" Dean allowed himself a smile at the memory.

"Yeah?" Sam had a perplexed look on his face.

"You had that dog for all of two hours before dad came home and took it to the pound."

"So? What is your point?" Sam interrupted.

"You were inconsolable for days, Sam even though dad explained why we couldn't have a dog. It took you only two hours to become attached to that dog and it destroyed you when it was taken away."

"I still don't get your point." Sam said when it became clear Dean was finished with what he thought was explanation enough.

"My point is, you'll meet this kid and get attached to her and we both know she's not our sister because dad is a lot of things but he's not a douche, so you'll be devastated when the results come in and she goes away to continue with her father finding mission."

Sam objected. "Hey, I'm 21 now, not that 10 year old you're talking about. I know how to let things and people go. Dean snorted. Sam ignored his brother's disbelief, "Besides, you were just as devastated at the loss of the dog, you were just better at pretending!"

"I was not!" He was. He had cried in the shower, no way Sam knew that.

"Was too!"

"How old are you two idjits? Five? Bobby snickered and walked away.

Dean laughed as Bobby left but as soon as they were alone, his face fell. "Sam, you're still raw from losing Jess. I will not allow you to build yourself up for another loss!"

"Come on Dean, I knew Jess for two years. And I did not lose her, she died. Having a chat with Emily and then having her leave is hardly the same thing."

"If you put it that way, but I know you Sam. You're a freaking bleeding-heart and that's what I love most about you. You bond with people so easily and so deeply. I mean, look, you loved Bobby and Pastor Jim at first sight, I didn't like them, let alone trust them for months!"

"I know! You were cynical even as a kid!" Sam shook his head sadly. It saddened him that his brother had not had a childhood. He silently cursed their father for the damage he had inflicted on his oldest son. Sam had fortunately been raised by Dean who had sheltered him from evil. He loved his brother for that.

"Yeah, I'm cynical and you're too trusting. Never any middle ground when it comes to the two of us uh?"

"Kinda like yin and yang!" Sam conceded.

"And there you go making everything girly as usual!"

Sam swatted his brother.

Bobby collected the samples the very next morning and mailed them to the laboratory.


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter is a bit of a filler, but bear with me.**

Emily had meanwhile found a job in Brandon to keep her busy if for nothing else, and she was looking for another one. The part time data entry job was tedious and was something she could do in her sleep but its monotony kept idleness at bay and kept her out of her head.

She knew she would soon have to move on. She was not stupid. She knew the chances of John being her father were very slim and the only reason she had held on to any hope was because she had hit a dead end looking for Gale Cursor. All the data bases she had hacked had yielded no results; it was obvious that Gale Cursor was an alias.

She was aware that Bobby had his own resources, after all he had managed to prove a part of her mother's story, something she hadn't been able to. So she had allowed him to pluck her hair, something someone else would have gotten a kick in the groin for, and she would wait here in Brandon until Bobby couldn't help her any more then she would leave. Until then, she needed something to keep her mind off the letter he had and the box in the trunk of her car; the box that had even more disturbing letters, the box that had led her on this quest in the first place. Sometimes she thought of sharing the box and its contents with Bobby but she knew it wouldn't be fair, it was not his burden to carry. It was her father's if she ever found him. It was his burden to disprove what was in those letters, and if he couldn't disprove them, then it would be his burden to protect her.

Gosh, this quest was getting old. The worst part was the loneliness. Bobby would have been a great companion, what with the cars and the books and the weird phones and he was a big softie, despite the gruff exterior, but she did not want to get attached to anyone else. Not until she found out the truth about herself.

So yes, the job was great as far as distractions went since it was part time, she still had a lot of spare time she did not want. She desperately needed a second job and if not that, then a fake ID so she could legally drink! It was as if fate was reading her mind because the minute she thought that, she saw the 'waitress needed' sign in the diner window. She had never waitressed before, but it couldn't be so hard right? What the hell? She didn't even have the job yet. Well, why not try?

She went in with a few expectations and came out with the job. She figured her "I will come in just after 2 p.m and work straight through to the late evening shift and later if you want for any amount of money you want to pay me" answer was the selling point. She started the very next afternoon. It was awesome. Well, except for the tacky uniform she had to wear! Gosh, who had designed that thing? Thank heavens she had small and humble breasts to quote that oh so flexible Shakira musician woman whose video she had chanced upon when she was channel surfing.

* * *

Sitting around waiting was not something the Winchester brothers did graciously or even at all though Sam was slightly better at it than Dean. So, after just two days at the yard, they were climbing walls so Bobby threw them out because they were making him twitchy as well. They drove to Brandon. There was this inn in Brandon that they loved to eat at, it had great pie.

Dean filled up the impala and since it was a force of habit, he grabbed the newspaper as he walked back to the inn and Sam. Sam had already ordered for him so he did not have to wait long for his meal. He ate heartily and disgustingly, getting a major kick from the revolted faces Sam was giving him. When he was done, he ordered for pie and as he waited for it, he turned to the obituary pages. A story caught his eye, he circled it. Mmmm Wisconsin ...that was six hours away. Would Sam go for it? He was actually surprised Sam was not biting at the bit to leave Bobby's and continue the 'finding dad' quest. There was no reason for them to be waiting around at Bobby's for the DNA results because they both knew what the outcome would be. Sam was unusually placid.

On his part, when they got to the diner, Sam got out and went inside to get a seat. There were no booths available so he sat at the counter. He ordered for Dean, knowing his preference because his brother ate the same thing in every diner, if it was available. He got himself his customary chicken salad which he knew Dean would sneer at and call him Francis for. His brother was a riot. Dean walked in with the newspaper. Phew! Finally! Here was proof that his brother was still himself! They had been at Bobby's only two days but that was longer than usual considering neither one of them was hurt. Sam had been wondering when Dean would have them on a hunt. He still wanted to find their dad so badly but was willing to follow his brother's lead. Dean had never steered them wrong before. Dean ate disgustingly, trying to get a rise out of Sam and Sam duly humoured him by looking revolted and embarrassed because he knew his reaction made Dean ridiculously happy. Sam smiled fondly. Dean was such a child!

Sam on his part ate neatly; Dean would say primly if he was asked. Sam would pretend to be affronted. That was the way they interacted. When Dean finished his meal, he opened the paper. Sam excused himself for the bathroom and returned just in time to put paid to Dean picking up tacky Wendy, their waitress. Dean was all about quantity when it came to women!

Dean gave him a lecture about having fun which he ignored of course so Dean showed him the newspaper and the case he had found. Sam couldn't resist bitching about the fact that they were no longer looking for dad but Dean put him in his place snarkily and quickly. With an eye roll, Sam gave in. "Fine, I'll call Bobby!"

* * *

Emily was glad there was a small employee parking in the back of the diner hidden from the road because she had had to change into her uniform inside her car having had no time to change after her data entry job. Thank Pythagoras for her spacious car. She entered the diner from the back door reserved for employees and as she came up to the counter, she caught the backs of two tall guys as they left the diner. She did not dwell on them since she had a counter and tables to clear and people to serve. As she grabbed the plates and newspaper on the counter, she grumbled to herself. Wendy still had a few minutes to the end of her shift. She could have at least cleared the counter. The bitch!

The newspaper was open to the obituary page which was not weird in and of itself but the fact that one obit was circled was intriguing at best and suspect at worst. Her imagination came up with rather impressive scenarios explaining that circled obit and it was only her quick reflexes that saved the plate that began to tumble.

There was a steady but manageable traffic into the diner until five, when the office leaving evening crowd began to arrive. By six thirty the place was packed and was barely working as a diner with more beers ordered than food or snacks. And oh boy these besuited well-groomed people were anything but well mannered! The women were snobbish and rude and the men were boorish louts!

Emily found herself slapping away more than one groping hand and swearing under her breath. She had to count to ten so many times, she was sure she had reached infinity. Someone was seriously going to end up with a bottle smashed upon their head if this continued! The juke box was also blaring random pop songs and making Emily's head ache.

Then as suddenly as it had started, it was over. The rowdy crowd melted away, heading to their gated homes leaving behind beer spills and broken glass, and was replaced by rough-looking men who were quiet, pensive and amazingly polite. Emily and June, the other waitress, cleaned up the spills and glass around the undemanding men while serving them drinks and snacks. The jukebox was now playing soothing blues.

If she sat down off to the side of the counter, away from her boss' eye-line and closed her eyes like this, she could imagine she was back home and the quiet conversations in the background were her parents discussing their day.

"Hey there!" the gruff voice sounded oddly familiar and happily surprised. So she knew it was not her boss coming to fire her for taking a moment! She opened her eyes.

"Bobby!" She couldn't help the smile that split her face. The be-capped man leaning against the counter felt like an old friend, even though she had spent time with him on only two occasions, the second of which had been unmemorable because she had been lost in her head trying to figure out her next move.

"So did you piss away your inheritance or are you trying to see how the other half lives?" Bobby smiled. The kid had wormed into his heart without even trying and had done it in the space of two meetings!

She laughed, "Neither! I'm just trying to keep myself busy because I tend to get into mischief if I don't!"

"Now why don't I doubt that?" Bobby chuckled.

"Because you're a very perceptive man!" She chuckled as well. "So you're a patron of this place?"

"No, but I didn't want to drink alone in my house this evening. I was having a drive and ended up here!"

"I believe that is providence at work! So before I get fired on my first day, what will you be having?"

"Someone whose taste in all things bad for your health told me the pie here was to die for! So that and a beer! I'll be over there," he said pointing to an empty booth.

"Don't tell anyone I told you this but the pie is the only thing worth eating on that menu … well maybe the chicken salad is passable too. The coffee? Now that absolutely sucks!" She got up, placed the order, cleaned another just emptied table, checked on the other patrons, returned to the counter to pick up his order and brought it back.

"I could use some company," Bobby offered when he noticed her lingering. The place was not hopping with activity, he didn't think she'd get into trouble.

"Yeah?" she asked hopefully. He nodded.

She sat down. Bobby fully expected her to grill him about the progress of the John search but she surprised him. She asked about him! Bobby was a private person but he found himself willingly talking about his life, painting over the weird parts of course. Emily was a captive audience. She shook with laughter, snorted in cheeky disbelief, gasped in awe and sometimes in shock and asked questions in the right places. When her boss demanded her attention, she groaned in protest.

Bobby chuckled, "Go! My stories are not worth losing a job over!"

"Oh they so are!"

"I'm flattered but I wouldn't want to get you fired from your job after just a day!"

"I'm going but only because I don't want your guilty conscience to haunt you!" Emily said with a cheeky grin. "Not that that's likely to happen, considering the stories you've been telling!"

Bobby laughed. She left to talk to her boss and surprisingly returned after a few minutes.

"He let me off. Said I've been great and I can go home early! Can you believe that?" she exclaimed with a relieved smile.

"Great!" Bobby said. "How're you getting home?"

"My car is in the back. I can get a coffee and keep you company till you're done with your beer," she shrugged.

"Thought you said the coffee was shit!"

"Not the words I used, but it is. Right now, I'm a customer not an employee so I have to spend some money to hang around." she explained.

That she didn't try to sneak a drink of beer was telling.

They talked until closing time.

Bobby found Emily an intriguing mix of knowledge and naivety; she was well travelled and well read but despite that, she was amazingly guileless. Emily on the other hand found Bobby worldly and incredibly experienced. While many of the things she knew she learnt from books, he knew things because he had done or experienced them. Neither was condescending to the other.

Bobby walked her to her car. She unlocked and opened the door but before she got in, she gave him a quick shy hug, "Thank you Bobby."

He couldn't get any words past his constricted throat. He was overwhelmed with emotion. He had not been hugged in ages. The last time was probably just before Sam turned thirteen and decided hugs were for babies and girls. Most of the people he knew were simply not huggers!

"Drive safe!" he said gruffly instead.

"I will," she closed the door, rolled down the window and waved.

"Hey, roll that back up, yah damn idjit!" Bobby groused then without even thinking about it he added, "See you tomorrow!"

She rolled her eyes, "Yes mother!" she teased.

He waved and walked to his truck with a smile on his face.

The next day, he was in the diner an hour before closing time. He did not know who was more surprised, him or Emily!

Somehow, they ended up discussing music. It was evident that Emily loved music. She argued heartily when Bobby said it was impossible to love all genres of music.

"I try everything at least once! And I cannot in all honesty say I hate a whole genre of music because sometimes one song from a genre I'm not particularly fond of surprises me with how good it is and now because I love that one song, I can't say I hate that genre of music anymore! If you check out my iPod, you'd be surprised what's on there! I do have a favourite genre and that's the blues. I love everything blues, from the pure jazz blues through blues rock and all the way to the silly hokum blues. I love rock and roll because of its blues roots, and I like soul music too. I must admit I'm a little partial to modern rhythm and blues and gospel blues are not really my thing but there are still songs from those genres that I like."

Bobby could not argue with that.

On the third day neither was surprised when he returned to the diner.

* * *

Then the DNA results came back.

DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN!


	7. Chapter 7

Sam was on his laptop going through his e-mails from his Stanford friends and Dean was cleaning the guns, studiously ignoring Sam, something he always did when Sam was doing anything even remotely Stanford related.

Both brothers were of course thinking about their last case. The spirit had left not because of their actions but because a man had sacrificed himself to save his grandson. It was unprecedented for them, so each brother was dealing with a sense of guilt.

Dean's phone rang startling both of them. He looked at the display before answering it.

"Hey Bobby, whats up?" It had been four days since they had left his place.

"Hope you're holding on to something!" Bobby was brusque and to the point.

Dean looked up at his brother who moved from the table and came to sit next to him. He put the voice on speaker before he spoke, "Why?"

"Well, remember those DNA samples? The results came out positive!"

"What?" both brothers exclaimed in shock.

"Emily is your sister. Half sister if you want to be technical."

"Bobby thats impossible. There must have been a mistake. You must have sent them to a piss poor excuse of a laboratory!" Dean spoke loudly.

"I'm not a damn fool yah damn idjit! I used a top notch laboratory and no mistake was made. DNA tests are not 100% accurate but they're never wrong!" Bobby groused.

"In this case they must be."

"Look, I also can't make heads or tails about this but boy you need to wrap your head around these findings quick so we can figure out what's next. Sam? What do you think?"

Sam shrugged as if Bobby could see him. "I don't know Bobby, I'm still sorting my thoughts!" he sounded shell shocked.

"Hey Bobby, Let's call you back." Dean ended the call abruptly with an angry look which Sam belatedly realised was directed at him.

"What?" he asked, "What did I do?"

"You actually think that kid is our sister?"

"Dean, despite your reservations, DNA tests are never far off the mark!"

"Screw the tests! This is dad! Saying that kid is our sister, is saying dad lied to a woman, got her pregnant and then left her in the lurch!" Dean had began to pace. Sam knew he did this when he was trying to keep himself from punching something or someone. Sam stayed very still not wanting to be the punch bag.

"Well ... if you put it like that…" Sam trailed off. He was at a loss. He heartily believed in science methods, but he believed in his father's integrity as well.

"Gosh I cant believe you right now, Sam. Do you hate dad so much?"

"Dean! I don't hate dad. How can you say such a thing?" Sam yelled. The accusation stung and the stress of the moment was overcoming his forced calm.

"Well how can you easily and quickly believe this about him?"

"I'm not believing anything about dad! I'm simply believing the results!" Sam run his hands through his hair to calm himself, and thought hard. An improbable answer came to him, but given the life they led it was not that crazy. "Maybe he wasn't himself then!" he said desperately.

"You mean like he was possessed or something?" Dean gratefully latched onto the explanation.

"Yeah!" It was not what Sam had meant but it was as good an explanation as any. Besides, Dean seemed to like it.

"Well, that would explain it." Dean stopped pacing, glad that his faith in his father had not been shattered even though the alternative 'possessed' reason was not exactly desirable news. Then he remembered something and the pacing began again, "Sam, from that woman's letter, it appears he didn't remember her or the town or anything. Possessed people remember all the things the demon made them do. From what we've seen, its like they are there but not in control. Dad would have remembered being possessed and he would have remembered the woman!"

"Shit!" Sam thought. "So maybe it wasn't a demon?" he half told, half asked his brother

"Then what?"

"I don't know." Sam shrugged, "there's lots of supernatural things we've not encountered yet. I can always do research."

"Go for it college boy," Dean sad distractedly as he continued pacing.

There was silence for a long time; both brothers lost in their thoughts.

"It wasn't dad, possessed or not! It wasn't him Sam!" Dean said jubilantly.

"We're back to that? Why?" Sam's head was beginning to ache.

"Think about it Sam. Dad used to leave us for days, even weeks on end but he was never gone for months. That letter said she got pregnant a month from meeting this Gale douche and he took off when she was three months along. That means he was in Eros for four months. If dad was Gale, he would have had to be gone for four months or more!"

"Yeah, good point." Sam said tiredly. He was going to let it go then a memory crept to the front of his brain. He began cautiously, "Dean, remember one of the times we stayed with Pastor Jim? I was four or almost four I think. We were there a long time. I was a kid so I had no concept of time but it felt longer than usual and I don't remember dad there with us."

Dean thought back carefully. He was eight then, gosh Sam had been just a baby! How could he even remember that? His brother's brain was bigger than he thought! He remembered staying in one school long enough to make friends and even go on a camping trip. And he remembered Jim coming for a parent teacher meeting.

"Shit!" he thought. Sam was probably right, they were there longer than usual but he couldn't remember how long exactly. "I have to call Jim and ask him about it."

* * *

Pastor Jim was happy to hear from them. He was surprised to know Sam had left Stanford and was with Dean. He asked about their health and their dad. When they got to the reason they had called, he didn't even have to think for long.

"I enjoyed having you boys with me that time. Your dad was gone for nearly five months, he was following a lead in Jesup, Georgia but..." the pastor

"What?"

"Well, he went to Jesup but when he woke up, he was in a cave in Virginia. He hitched a couple of rides back to the motel he'd rented in Jesup and found the Impala had been impounded because he had been gone for four months! He got the car back, spent a week in Georgia trying to figure out what had happened, gave it up, drove to Virginia to look for clues, gave that up too and drove here. He never did remember or find out what had happened in those four months. Why? Did you find something?"

"No, just following up a lead. Thanks Jim." Dean hang up. He turned to Sam. "Shit on sticks!"

Sam grimaced. "How long?"

"Five months! And he completely lost four months. Doesn't remember what he did in those months."

Tense shocked silence followed.

"Dean, what now?"

Dean thought. "You have a picture of dad back then?"

"Yeah."

"So we're heading to Eros. Do some research. Maybe we can figure out what was wearing dad!"

"What about Emily and Bobby?"

"We'll call Bobby back and tell him to hold off telling Emily while we do this. Grab your stuff, we'll make the call in the car."

* * *

It had taken hours before Bobby could bring himself to believe the results. With a sigh he had pictured the reactions of the brothers. Dean would be indignant and disbelieving and Sam would be confused, not knowing whether to trust science or his father's character. Then they would hang up on him to discuss the implications of the announcement and the best way to tackle the problem it presented. Well, when he finally called them, they reacted exactly as he'd thought they would. When they hang up on him, he went to the kitchen to get himself some chilli as he waited for the return call. He also knew the return call would not solve anything. They would call him back to ask him to wait on them while they looked for their own answers.

His phone rang, he answered it without looking at the display. "That didn't take as long as I thought it would!"

"What didn't?" It was Pastor Jim.

"Sorry, I thought it was someone else."

"The Winchester boys by any chance?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"I got a call from them. It was not weird by the real standards of the word in the Winchester universe, but it left me wondering whether everything is fine. I know they turn to you most so I figured you'd be the best person to call."

"Well, they're looking for John who seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. There is an issue they're trying to wrap their heads around, heck I'm trying to wrap my head around."

"Anything I need to concern myself with?"

"No. At least not yet. If need arises, we'll loop you in."

The Pastor was not the type to insist on having details. He trusted the people he interacted with, to inform him when it was pertinent. "Fair enough," he said, "have a good one, Singer."

* * *

Sam called Bobby a little more than an hour later. They were already on the road to Eros.

"Damn idjits!" Bobby groused.


	8. Chapter 8

Eros was a tiny town. Everyone knew everyone and their dog and their business and their life story. It was a town of gossips with remarkable memories. Nearly everyone who was older than twenty remembered Gale. Some had even met the man.

"The man was a hunk! Tall, dark looks and if he smiled, like really smiled, he had a dimple in his left cheek. And his voice? Whoa! He had such a smooth, deep voice. It was sexy, and soothing when he was in a good mood, but could be run and hide terrifying when he was pissed!" a thirty-something woman answered Dean's question.

"Is this him?" Dean showed the woman the picture he had. It was folded to keep a younger Sam and Dean out of view.

"Yeah! Never can forget such a man. Too bad he made that Deco hussy pregnant and had to leave town!"

"He was quiet and intense and even though he was polite at all times, there was something dangerous about him. Like he knew so many ways he could kill you and hide the evidence!" the man behind the shop counter told Sam.

"This him?" Sam showed his copy of the same picture.

"Yeah, that's him. He left town as suddenly as he came in. Left the Deco girl pregnant."

"The Deco hussy?" Dean mused.

"Yeah, her mother hated him. Kept calling him the devil. Said he corrupted her daughter. I think she run him off, which didn't work out in her favour, because her daughter went chasing after him and never returned. I hear she killed herself!"

"The Deco girl?" Sam asked.

"She was beautiful. Man you should have seen her. She was her mother's life. But Cursor knocked her up, then left her. She took off after him and never came back. Broke her mother's heart she did."

"So the hussy's mum hated Gale?" Dean prompted.

"I wouldn't say hated. She just didn't like him or trust him, I heard her tell her daughter once that she couldn't read him and that was just plain impossible. Said she could read anyone! Know their intentions. She's rather freaky! If you meet her you'll understand."

"You know anything about the baby?" Sam asked.

"No, Celeste never returned, never called, no one knows what happened to the baby. Could have died for all anyone knows. No one even knows whether Celeste found Gale. Cece never looked for either her daughter or grandchild! It was like she wrote them off."

Both brothers decided to go to the source; it was time to visit Cece Deco.

* * *

The woman was as straight as a reed and her face had just started getting lines even though from everyone's accounts, and from calculating using Emily and Celeste's ages, it was obvious she was upwards of 70 years. However, her age defying looks were not the most striking physical thing about her; it was her eyes. Their amber colour though relatively rare was not remarkable of itself but their seemingly magnetic pull and the way she looked like she could see into a person's soul certainly was.

"You know him?" Sam produced the picture.

"He called himself Gale but that was not really his name. Well it was but it wasn't!"

"What do you mean?"

"It was like there were two presences, one Gale and the other a man. The man was…"

"Do you know what Gale was?" Dean interrupted.

"No!"

"How do you know Gale was not human?" Sam had to ask. He wondered whether it was just female intuition or a mother's dislike for her daughter's chosen mate or some supernatural gift.

"When I look into a person's eyes, I can see things that happened to them, events that changed their life paths. When we are born, we have no set life path until events begin to shape it. The first time we were praised or yelled at or spanked or denied a toy, the first day of school, losing a beloved stuffed animal, making a friend, small things that we don't realise shape our lives. Sometimes simple things don't change our lives so drastically but sometimes they will, getting a wrong train can lead to a meeting of soul mates, being late for a flight can save your life, walking into a bank earlier than usual can lead to you becoming a hostage. It may be a colossal event like losing a loved one or a limb or witnessing something horrific that changes a person's life path. Some people will have few of these events, others will have many. Of course I'm aware the event doesn't change a life path as much as the person's conscious or subconscious choice. Two people can experience the very same thing but while one's life path may change from good to bad, the other's may change from bad to good. The way they choose to react to the event is different but the event will be the catalyst for the change and I'll see that event. So, if the event doesn't change your life path, then I will not see it."

She spoke like a history professor, in such an unaffected but matter-of-fact voice that it was hard not to take her seriously. The boys were looking at her rapt.

"When I looked into Gale's eyes, I saw nothing! I tried to suspend my belief enough and think maybe he has never been affected by anything that has happened to him, but coupled with my other gift, I know he is not a man. When I touch a person, I can feel the essence of their soul, but I couldn't feel Gale's soul. There was nothing there!"

Dean opened his mouth but she stopped him.

"Before you ask, yes, I once felt the other man's soul, the man in this picture, the man you're looking for, he surfaced sometimes but it was so rare and so quick I only caught glimpses. I know he was a good man."

She looked directly into Dean's eyes. He realised her eyes were now gold and not amber, like they were melting. Also, he felt like he had forgotten how to breathe, but didn't need the air anyway. It was like he had held his breath and found that his lungs were still functioning despite that! Additionally, he couldn't turn away and it wasn't from lack of trying.

"He is your father." Cece said.

"That can easily be inferred from the subtle resemblances we bear to him." Sam interrupted, rather sarcastically. Cece lifted her eyes and looked at a spot just behind Sam. Now able to move, Dean looked at his baby brother with pride.

"Something inhuman and evil visited your family when you were quite young, you were a baby and you were four. You lost your mother. I'm sorry about that. This evil left a mark on all of you, changed you, Dean and your father from a peaceful life path to a warrior's one."

Sam was looking at her in disbelief when she lowered her eyes to his. He felt the way Dean had. Only he would have described it as drowning but without any pain.

"Recently, you lost your girlfriend in exactly the same way your mother died and now you are looking for John, your father because he is looking for the thing that killed your mother. You did not want this life. Your mother's death did not change your life path because you were just a baby, and the only life you knew was that on the road with your father and brother. You hated being a hunter, left the life, but your girlfriend's death unlike your mother's did change your life path to the warrior life your father wanted but could never get you to embrace. I'm sorry."

Once again she lifted her eyes and looked at a point over their heads.

There was stunned silence. Both boys trying to wrap their heads around this woman's gift.

Finally Dean recovered enough, "Your daughter had a child and we…"

"You want to know the child's father, right?"

Both boys nodded.

"The child is John's."

"What? How?" Dean was indignant.

"How can I put this simply?" She thought for a few seconds, "Okay, imagine the three of us are in a dark room and you are so drunk you're out of it, and I want to smack Sam without getting the blame, so I grab your hand and use it to slap him. Whose hand print will be on his face when the lights come on?"

The brothers looked at each other. Shit!

"It'll be mine but I won't remember slapping him which won't matter because the proof is plain for all to see." Dean answered very reluctantly.

"So basically, you're saying Gale wanted John to father a child with Celeste?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Well, it's the only thing that makes sense. Why? I have no idea," she said calmly having anticipated his next question.

"Wonderful! Only in Winchesterville can we have a sister who was supernaturally commissioned!" Dean said sarcastically.

"But she might not be supernaturally inclined!" Sam pointed out. He thought for a beat, Bobby had said Emily was smart, so she had probably exhausted all leads before turning up at Bobby's door. "She came here, didn't she? Looking for John?" Sam realised.

Dean looked at his brother. He truthfully had only thought about the girl in the very abstract.

For the first time since they had met her, Cece smiled, "Yes. She did. She's not a spitting image of her, but she looked enough like my Celeste, I could tell who she was right away."

"Did you look into her eyes? And touch her?"

"I looked, but I didn't touch her."

"What did you see? Is she human?"

"She's human, I saw that right away, saw events in her life, events that have shaped her. For the most part, the events were happy, except her parents' deaths and the discovery of their lies. Her life path shifted only a little. I doubt it will stay that way once she meets the two of you and your father."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Dean objected indignantly.

"Why didn't you touch her?" Sam asked at the same time.

She answered Dean first. "The two of you have got good souls but you walk a warrior's life path and it's easy to falter. And like I said, even meeting a person can change one's life path. A meeting between you and Emily can only have three outcomes; you may change her life path, she may change yours or your three individual life paths will remain exactly the same. While I would like the latter two choices best, I am not a fool. She is young, confused and lost and she's looking for explanations and for where to belong. In other words, she's more likely to be influenced than not."

Then she turned to Sam. "I didn't touch her because I couldn't! I wanted to but something was repelling me. So I sent her away."

"Do you know what it was? What repelled you? Was it evil?"

"I don't know what it was but it didn't feel evil. It just felt like there was some kind of force field around her."

"Come on Sam, let's go." Dean had had enough of this madness. He had reached a decision anyway.

"Wait, one last question." Sam objected, "Does Emily have your gift?"

"No. My daughter didn't inherit it either."

They thanked her and left. "Good luck lads," she whispered as they walked out her door.

The boys drove out of Eros, each lost in his own thoughts. It was only when after they had put five towns between them and Eros that they stopped, outside a diner. Neither made a move to get out of the car.

After a few minutes, Sam couldn't bear the silence anymore. "Shit! That was freaky! But now what?"

In answer, Dean reached into his pocket and got his phone.

"Hi Bobby. So about the results and Emily, tell her we were not a match!" Dean said matter-of-factly.

"What?" Both Sam and Bobby on opposite sides of the phone call exclaimed.

"You heard me."

"Why?" Sam always had to have a reason.

"Bobby, I'll call you back."

"That seems to be your call ending statement these days!" Bobby complained.

Dean hang up and turned to his brother. "Sam, We don't know what she is. She could be evil, for all we know. A demon's spawn or something."

"Cece said she was dad's and not Gale's." Sam argued.

"Fine, so she's human, even better reason to stay away from her. I love hunting but away from the actual hunt, even I admit our life is less than ideal; I mean the crappy motels, the time we spend on the road and in dusty libraries, the nights we spend away from our beds digging up graves and salting and burning dead people, the pool hustling … scratch that one, cos I love that part. The rest though, I wouldn't wish any of that stuff on anyone, let alone an eighteen year old girl."

"That's bullshit Dean. Just because we acknowledge her as our sister doesn't mean she has to live our life! She could very easily live a normal life."

"Look how well that turned out for you, Sam. Your girlfriend was killed by the same thing that killed mum!"

"Dean, I know! I know Jess wouldn't have died if she had never met me!"

"Thats not what I meant!" Dean exclaimed.

Sam continued as if his brother had not spoken, "We both know I'm cursed, I should never have attached to anyone who is not in the hunting life but I wanted normal and Jess' death was the consequence of that selfishness, but Emily is different. She has known normal all her life so it wouldn't be a stretch for her to go back to it. All we would be is big brothers who she knows have her back when she needs them."

"First off, you're not cursed! Never say that again! Two, Jess' death was not your fault and neither was mum's if that's what you're thinking. Three, we have important things to do instead of baby sitting. What happened to finding dad? And killing every evil thing between now and finding dad? And lastly, lets say this kid goes back to her normal life but stays in contact with us, what's to stop some demon or some other supernatural thing that dad or I pissed off from finding out and hurting her to get to us? And that could very well happen. Trust me, if we acknowledge that kid as our sister, we will have marked her for life."

"Her name is Emily!"

"What?"

"Her name is Emily, not that kid. You've never said her name you know."

"So not the point!" Dean exclaimed.

Sam was silent for a while then asked, "What if she's already marked?"

"What?"

"Have you asked yourself even once, why she is looking for dad?"

"What? No! What has that got to do with anything?"

"Look Dean, from what Bobby told us about her, she is an intelligent and well educated kid who could and should be going places. She was raised in suburbia by a stable family and she's loaded to boot. What has dad really got to offer, huh? Nothing! So why does a kid like that uproot herself from her cushy life to look for him? Why not hire a PI to find him? Why look for him at all?"

Dean shrugged, "Sometimes rich, spoilt kids do crazy shit for a thrill!"

"I don't think so, Dean. She doesn't sound like the type. Bobby said she was spontaneous but grounded." Sam paused and thought for a bit. "Hey, the test proved she's dad's kid, so that makes her a Winchester. What if being a Winchester is all it takes to be marked? I mean look at us, I tried to leave the life and someone I loved ended up dead. You don't have a life outside hunting. Dad is ... well, he's dad! Besides, you heard the Deco woman as well as I did. Gale, whatever he was, wanted Emily born for some reason and of all people he used dad. I mean he could have used any of the guys living in Eros who were already crushing on Celeste, but he chose dad. What if Gale marked her? Maybe she is looking for dad because of a supernatural reason?"

"Then we look for dad and let him handle it. However, I doubt she's looking for dad because of some supernatural reason. Trust me, she just wants to find her father, its an adopted kid thing. It has nothing to do with us!"

"Dean, if Bobby tells her the results were not a match, she's going to continue looking for Gale on her own! What if she does find him and he's dangerous? We are her big brothers, we have to protect her!"

"Gale practically commissioned the kid. No way he's going to kill her!" Dean scoffed.

"You don't know that! She's our sister whether you like it or not and whether you acknowledge it or not. Besides, like you keep saying, she's just a kid! As her brothers, we have to do the right thing by her."

"I know! And the right thing at least right now is to back off."

Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean cut him off.

"Stop!" he snapped. "Gosh, Sam, just stop and think with your brain and not your heart for once. You know as well as I do that this kid is better off without us in her life! Even Cece was worried that we would change her life path!" Dean was tired of this argument. He was getting a headache.

Sam froze. How had he forgotten Cece's worries that meeting them would change Emily's future? "Yeah, you're right. Call Bobby back. I'll go grab us lunch."

Sam opened the door and stepped out of the car.

Dean watched his brother leave and wished he could do for him what they were doing for Emily. Sam didn't deserve this life. His heart was too big, too soft for this shit.

He called Bobby and told him to go ahead with the deception, for Emily's own good he explained.

Then he made the phone call that he knew he had to. He did not give much away. It was a family rule, to hold cards close to the chest in case the phone was not with it's owner.

"Hey dad, I don't know if you get these messages or not, but if you do, you have to call me back. We run into a situation. I already made a decision about it, I'm sure you'll approve. Sam doesn't of course!" Dean laughed bitterly as he hang up; his father and brother were rarely on the same page. It was Murphy's law.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: There's a bit of language and gore in this chapter.**

* * *

Bobby hadn't thought a Winchester would be able to surprise him anymore but he had been wrong. When Dean called and told him to lie to Emily about the results, he was shocked, and from the exclamation he heard from Sam, so was he. When Dean had hang up, saying he would call back, Bobby knew it was because he was going to explain his decision to his brother, not because he was going to change his mind. So Bobby psyched himself up for telling Emily later that evening.

He wondered how the kid would take it. He knew she was resilient, after all, she held her own in that diner and he knew that the after work crowd was obnoxious beyond description.

He got to the diner earlier than usual and sat at the counter because his usual booth was occupied. Emily brought him a beer and a piece of pie, said hi and continued with her duties. He watched her discreetly while half listening to the woman seated to his right who just wouldn't stop talking. He'd never come in this early so he had never seen Emily working the after work crowd. She was fast, efficient and for someone her age, remarkably controlled. However, he could tell she was holding on to that control with steel will power. When patrons got unpleasant, she firmly but politely told them off, then walked away muttering or counting, he could tell she did it in a bid to rein in her temper, not because she was flustered.

As the diner cleared and quietened down, he relocated to the booth he usually occupied. When her shift ended she came and sat next to him. She brought him another beer and piece of pie, and poured herself a cup of coffee and proceeded to eat some of the pie. Bobby smiled indulgently.

They talked idly for a few minutes before Bobby told her about the results. He hadn't expected her to throw a tantrum or break down with tears, but her quiet acceptance was unnerving.

"Well, guess I'm back to square one," she said with a shrug, "it always was a shot in the dark!" She had known that the chances of John being her father were slim and likely zero, even before leaving San Francisco.

Bobby was guilt-ridden. Emily was smart, inquisitive, but she did not think to ask to see the results for herself. Her unquestioning trust in him was making him feel like a douche.

Besides the guilt, there was worry. He was worried about what her decision would now be, where she would go, if she would be okay, who would watch out for her. He realised he had become attached to her. Even before knowing she was the sister of the two boys he loved like sons, he had felt like a father to her. Letting her go was going to be hard. Damn these Winchesters and their unintentional charm.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked her.

"Truthfully, I don't know. But I think I'll hang around for a while, settle things on the work front both here and at the other job. Then I'll see where the winds take me." She liked it in Brandon, well no, not really, she just liked Bobby; the town and the jobs were nothing to call home about. Bobby was like a father to her. Totally different from her late father, but just as great. His gruff exterior hid a soft heart, his dry humor sheltered a lonely man. He was unassuming but was knowledgeable, heck, the man spoke Japanese. He was so far the best thing that had happened to her since she'd left home. However, she wasn't an idiot, she knew sentimentality was no reason for her to stay in a place. The world unfortunately didn't work like that.

Bobby felt his heart break, but what had he expected? She had nothing to tie him to this place.

She hang around for a month after that and just as he was beginning to feel optimism that she might not leave, she bid him farewell and informed him she was leaving the next morning.

* * *

Emily needed only three trips to carry her things out to the car in the basement garage. Her suitcase and holdall bag were already in the trunk, and with this last trip, she had her the guitar slung on her back, the laptop on her shoulder and the box in her arms. She staggered to the car. Placing the box on the hood, she opened the front passenger door and placed the guitar on the seat and the laptop in the footwell. She slammed the door shut and opened the trunk before returning to pick the box.

As she carried the box, she thought about the past months. She had started without much of a plan thinking it would be easy to find if not Celeste, then John and if not him then Gale. But Celeste was dead, John was not her father, nor was he related to her father and now that she thought about it, there was no way she could find Gale because aside from his name which was an alias or possibly a fabrication by her mad as a hatter mother, there was no clue as to who the man was. Emily shook her head ruefully Her grief must have made her a little crazy, no make that a lot crazy; crazy enough to believe the words of a woman who had been committed not once but twice in her life!

She looked at the ring and the watch on her hand for a second. The ring was really pretty, the watch was kind of geek cool, but meh, "Screw them! And she did not just mean the items, but who they symbolised. She took off the watch and tossed it in the box, then with a sigh, she twisted the ring off and threw it into the box too. "This is over!" she declared.

She slammed the trunk shut with a sense of finality and leaned against the car and closed her eyes. She would head back to San Francisco, back to Jackie and Wade. Then she would see about her place at MIT.

She felt a presence and opened her eyes. Weird! She was alone. Cold fingers touched her neck, she slapped them away but her hand hit empty space. Frowning she whipped around. She was still alone. The fingers held her neck steady and something began to drill into the base of her hairline. The pain was excruciating. She screamed and squirmed frantically trying to get free.

Her mind kept yelling "What the fuck is this shit?" Mmmmm, her mind always was liberal with swear words though she would never say them out loud. Unless she was high on something, then the words would break free. Fuck, she needed to focus or something spectacularly bad was going to happen to her.

The cold seeped into her body through the drilled hole. Wait, what? There's a hole in my neck! Shit! But when her fingers that were still trying to pry the cold fingers around her neck brushed the spot where the cold was entering her body she couldn't feel a hole. Fuck, she couldn't be tripping. She didn't take drugs or anything. She could get crazy enough without them. In her quest to pack, she had uncharacteristically skipped breakfast, maybe she was suffering from low blood sugar.

She needed to start thinking logically even though what was going on was so far removed from logical it was in another universe entirely. So when did this start? She asked herself. When I closed my eyes? So this could be related to that, but no she closed her eyes all the time so that couldn't be it. When I closed the trunk? Nah that couldn't be it either. Think dammit, you're usually bright! When I took off the watch and the ring. The watch was from her father, she had only started wearing it after his death, but she had worn the ring since her sixteenth birthday. It had been given to her by Laura, her adoptive mother, though as it turned out, it had actually been sent to her by her biological mother, Celeste who had the notion that it would protect her. If Emily remembered the letters right, Celeste had in turn got it from her mother Cece!

Emily had kept the ring even after learning this, not because she believed the protection nonsense Celeste had written, but because she felt it symbolised and somehow connected her to both her mothers and to her grandmother. Emily was a mushy romantic despite constantly protesting otherwise. So anyway, considering what was currently happening to her, maybe her biological mother, Celeste had not been as mad as Emily had thought. Shit! That was not good. It meant everything else Celeste had written was true! That crazy stuff was true? Damn, who knew? So she had taken off the protection ring and given some fucked up invisible neck-drilling ass thing access to her body? What was this thing's end game? To wear her? Great, okay, she needed to stop thinking, get out of her head and feel what was actually happening, gauge what was going on and fight!

The cold was spreading through her body, slowly, surely, but it was when the whispering began that she really freaked out. "It'll be quick. Don't fight me." the thing whispered.

What the hell? It could fucking speak? Or was it her mind supplying the words? Don't fight? Yeah right! Whatever the hell this thing was, it had entered the wrong girl. She was her mother's daughter after all. She would go down fighting1

"Get out of my head!" she thought. The thing paused and retreated but then started moving again.

It was now everywhere. It seemed to have layered itself completely within her. Her conscious was pushing against it as if trying to eject itself with it. Emily knew she had to fight or she would lose herself, one way or the other.

"Get out, get out!" she yelled out loud trying to help her mind along with its quest. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the thing. "Get out, get out!"

"My, you're a powerful one!" the thing chuckled though it now sounded worried and panicky.

Without meaning to, she found herself reaching for her boot and retrieving her knife and unfolding it.

"Oh shit, oh shit!" she thought as she fought to loosen the grip she had on the knife. Her left hand moved of its own volition to the front of her body at chest level then she watched in horrified fascination as her remarkably steady right hand cut a straight, decisive line, from the base of the palm to the inside of the elbow. The blood arced upwards and into her face, spurting in time with her heartbeat. She tried to spit it out but her body was really not responding to the commands she was giving it. She found it strange that she felt no pain from this real wound when she had felt such terrible pain at the nonexistent wound in her neck. The right hand handed the damaged left hand the knife and she wondered how her left hand could still be so steady with such an injury, and with the blood that should have made it slick and slippery. Guess it was possible since she was being pupeeteered, that would also explain how she could still be standing. She should have collapsed already, from the pain and the blood loss. Again she watched as the left hand began to cut the right but suddenly it stopped, half way between the wrist and elbow. She vaguely heard a car turn into the garage and understood the pause.

Gosh, was this what had happened to her mother? This sucked in the suckiest way possible! She did not want to die like this. She did not want to die, period. She was too bloody young. Yeah, it was cliche, she knew everyone raged against dying, thought they were too young to go, well, sue her, she was too young!

Her mind was no longer even trying to push the thing out, she was tired, the blood loss was seeing to that. The thing chuckled in delight as it exited through her neck; happy with what it had achieved, sure she would bleed out and die.

As soon as it left her body, she fell to the ground. And to say she felt the pain would be an understatement. Agonizing pain radiated from her destroyed arms. She would have yelled out her pain if she had the energy, but she couldn't even find energy to spit the blood that had spurted into her mouth. Her beige dress was a mess. Damn it, she loved this dress. Those stupid movies made slit arms seem so painless and neat and eerily peaceful but this was agony, and messy and the blood flow, no, make that blood spurts were anything but peaceful! Her life was not ebbing away like a river, it was freaking spewing like a fountain.

"Hollywood absolutely sucks!" was Emily's last thought before the darkness took away the pain.

* * *

As Nancy drove into the garage, she thought she saw the air behind the girl shift like there was an invisible entity leaving her body through the neck but she knew it was the heat and her over active mind playing tricks on her.

She had had to drive back home an hour after getting to work, because she had forgotten the folder with the project documents.

As she parked, the girl fell to the ground. Alarmed, Nancy run to check on her, thinking she had fainted or something.

"Oh my God!" she whispered in shock when she saw Emily.

She ran back to her car and grabbed her gym bag and phone, calling 911 as she ran back to where Emily lay. She had the presence of mind to turn on the speaker and when she knelt next to Emily, she yelled the address and the state of the girl as she frantically tried to perform first aid.

She grabbed a T-shirt from the gym bag and tried to tear it and failed. "Stupid movies!" she thought angrily.

She placed the whole tee on Emily's right arm, grabbed a second and placed it on the left. The blood seeped through both tees in seconds. She tied the shirts in place and reached inside the gym bag for more material and came up with her sweats. Then she leaned on the girl's arms for pressure.

She heard the siren of the ambulance but she did not move until she was gently pushed aside by a paramedic.

"Is she your daughter?" one of them asked.

"No, she rents one of the apartments. She's been here about a month and a half. We met once in the garden, she told me her name was Emily. That's all I know."

"Thank you ma'am, we'll take it from here."

"She was standing! How was she standing? Why was she standing? Most people sit down and lean against something before! At least that is what the movies show! I've never seen anyone cut like that. They always cut across the wrist, don't they? Why did she wear beige? The blood is so red! And there's so much of it! Will she be okay? She's so young." Nancy could not stop talking.

The paramedics ignored her, they worked frantically for a couple of minutes, removed the T-shirts, gasping when they saw the wounds. They re-bandaged the girl's arms, called out medical terms that passed over Nancy's head, then they fitted an IV, and loaded up the girl.

Then one of the paramedics hoisted Nancy into the ambulance. It was obvious she was in shock. She did not really remember the ride to the hospital though she thought something might have happened to the girl on the way because there had been a flurry of activity at one point.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Obviously, I'm not a doctor so be nice, okay?**

* * *

When Bobby got the call from the hospital, he couldn't believe his ears. Had the kid been in an accident as she drove away? Had she been mugged or something? He got into his truck and drove as fast as he could to Sanford Hospital.

He was no stranger to hospitals. He was a hunter after all and so were the few people he called friends, as well as his numerous acquaintances. Hunting injuries were mostly either ignored or treated in fields, forests, homes and motels by friends, hunting partners and the odd doctor or vet but sometimes, they warranted a visit to the hospital. This however was the first time he was in a hospital for a non-hunting reason barring the times he had come for shots as a child.

He was directed to sit and wait as the doctor who had called him was paged.

It was almost ten minutes later when his name was called.

"Bobby Singer?" the doctor questioned the room at large, there being quite a large number of males waiting.

Bobby stood and the doctor came to him.

"Let's speak in my office." he led the way to an average sized office and offered Bobby a seat.

"So Emily is…"

"My niece. What happened to her?"

"Are the two of you close? Do you talk often?"

"I usually dropped by the diner in Brandon where she worked."

"So, often is right?"

Bobby nodded.

"Is she depressed or does she have a history of depression?"

"Not that I'm aware of!" Bobby said truthfully as medical history had never come up for discussion during those evenings in the diner.

"No, she's been thriving. What kind of questions are these? What is wrong with her?"

"Your niece slit her wrists."

"What? Is she okay?"

"She will be, but she lost a lot of blood and was treated for stage three hypovolemic shock which is quite serious. Her heart stopped on the way here and was restarted. Right now, she's resting."

"More like sedated!" Bobby thought.

"She will be fine, physically at least but it's her state of mind we are worried about. We will be placing her on suicide watch when she wakes up."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course."

She looked so small, dwarfed by the bed and the attached tubes connecting to the heart monitor and I.V.s and catheter. The face mask obscured half her face and with her eyes closed, she looked so young and fragile. The white bedsheets enhanced the paleness of her skin. The bandaged arms were placed over the blanket on her sides.

Bobby stood by the bed and held on to her right hand. The doctor had told him the wound on this arm was not as long or deep as the other one.

"How could I not have seen this?" Bobby asked himself. He thought he was alone and was shocked when he got a reply.

"Many times you can never see it coming," the nurse straightened up. She had been picking something from the floor and had been obscured by the bed.

It was a measure of Bobby's distress that he had not seen her. She introduced herself as Ali, Emily's day nurse. She fussed around Emily for a few minutes, checking readings on the monitor and adjusting the flow of the I.V.s.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," she touched Bobby's shoulder as she passed by him, "and I would suggest you use the chair!" she added as she left the room.

Bobby sat and without much thought found himself gently stroking his left hand through Emily's hair while his right hand kept its hold on her hand.

He knew he had to call the Winchester boys and maybe John, but there was time for that, for now, he would keep vigil at this broken girl's bedside.

* * *

Emily became aware slowly. She tried to open her eyes but they were determined to stay closed so she decided to let them be. The beeping sound assailing her ears should have been annoying but she found it comforting instead. Because she knew it meant she was still here. Still tethered to life.

She knew it had been close. That blood had sprayed, not flowed, which she had known meant something major had been cut. It definitely meant her blood was leaving her body too fast for the usual first aid methods. Thank heavens she was as stubborn as they came. "Fuck you, invisible murdering ass wipe! Told you, you fucking picked the wrong girl!" she swore triumphantly in her head.

Okay, she wasn't yet in position to be jubilant, because right now, she was tired, oh so tired, like she had run a marathon while carrying a bucket load of bricks and she was hot, so bloody hot. Great! She had picked up a fever, probably from an infection. Gosh, couldn't she catch a damn break! And the mask on her face was obviously supplying her with oxygen but was it asking too much for it be more comfortable?

She felt something, a large calloused slack hand, wrapped loosely round her right hand. Why wasn't there any grip? Was the owner dead? She tried to move her hand to communicate her consciousness but she couldn't. She was probably drugged to the gills. Figures!

Shit what if that thing came back now? She couldn't fight it off. She was so screwed. Her heart began to race. She heard the beep change into a shrill before she lost her train of thought to blackness.

Bobby woke up when the cardiac monitor began to shrill. Shit, something was wrong with the kid.

The doctor and Ali run into the room. The pillow was snatched from under the kid's head so she could lie flat and Bobby was ushered out of the room by another younger nurse.

After a few minutes, he was allowed back in.

"What happened?" he asked the doctor.

"She had what we call sinus tachycardia."

"English!"

"It's actually not as serious as it sounds. It's in simple terms, an excessively high pulse rate."

"What caused it?"

"Well in this case it's probably because of the fever but it could also be as a result of a burst of adrenaline due to a stressful situation. In other words, she might have had a bad dream and responded accordingly. I've given her a dose of beta blockers that should do the trick and asked the nurse to cover her with a cooling blanket. If anything happens, the nurses will page me but I doubt there will be any complications."

* * *

When Emily awoke the second time around, she came to fully. Her eyes fluttered a few times before they opened and she stared right at Bobby who was sitting in a chair pulled up next to the bed. He was holding her hand but his eyes were closed though she could tell he was awake. There was a weak light in the room. Either it was early morning or late afternoon, it was hard to really be sure. The mask was gone, replaced by a nasal cannula. It was not ideal, she wanted to rip it out but it sure beat the face mask.

"Hey," she croaked. Whoa, she needed water and maybe a lozenge!

Bobby's eyes snapped open. He just stared at her for a few seconds before he grabbed her into an awkward hug.

Bobby could not believe the surge of emotion he felt when he heard the hey and saw those amber eyes open. The only other people who had been able to evoke such emotion in him since his wife's death were the Winchester boys.

"Gosh Emily, why?" he asked. He would deny that his voice hitched at the last word.

He felt her stiffen, then she pulled herself out of his arms and she looked at him with those big eyes swimming with tears.

"I didn't Bobby, I would never, I swear. I didn't. There was this invisible cold thing that drilled an invisible hole in my neck and got inside and then it was controlling my hands. It made me do it. I swear. I didn't want to. I fought. I fought as hard as hell even I didn't know how to fight something I couldn't see and that was inside me. Oh jeez Bobby, don't believe what anyone says. I didn't do it."

It was so important to her that he believe she hadn't tried to kill herself, that she was made of sterner stuff, which she was. His approval meant everything.

Bobby was alarmed for two reasons the first and most important was that the heart monitor was beginning to make that shrill sound that had scared the bejesus out of him at night and the second was what Emily was saying; an entity had gotten into her and made her slit her wrists.

He lowered her back to the bed wondering about the response time of the hospital. That bloody monitor seemed like it had been going off for a million years now!

"Calm down, breathe!" he squeezed her hand. "Look at me, in, out, in out," he coached, all the while feeling foolish. A nurse walked into the room. She did not seem particularly panicked. Bobby was not impressed by her nonchalance.

"Finally! What the hell is going on?" his panic sounded like anger.

The nurse was looking at the monitor whose sound was even at that moment changing to a fast beeping sound.

She smiled, "Oh, this is just an RR alarm, its nothing serious. She's simply hyperventilating. Keep doing what you're doing. It seems to be helping."

And indeed it was. Emily was breathing easier, the beeping was slowing down to normal. Her eyes were closed and her forehead had broken out with sweat.

The nurse asked for a moment and Bobby went out into the hallway. The nurse wiped Emily down and changed her gown and bandages.

When Bobby returned, she was asleep. He figured she had been juiced!

He sat down and began to think.

Emily had spoken fast and she had kept repeating herself in panic, but he had heard what she had said. He also thought back to what the doctor had said in quiet musing the first night; that such decisive cuts were rare for a first suicide attempt that there should have been hesitation marks.

"Shit!" Bobby exclaimed as everything clicked. Something supernatural had tried to kill Emily. He was now glad he was a paranoid man. The protective sigils he had drawn on the room door and on the bed headboard and the floor beneath the bed with a clear wax crayon had probably kept Emily, and possibly himself by extension, safe.

He went down to his truck, grabbed a couple of books, his flask of holy water and a small bag of salt.

* * *

It was just after 2 p.m when she woke, having slept for seven hours, an effect of the drugs. So it was well after 4 p.m that he got a chance to really talk to her because he had to wait after the lunch, the sponge bath, the doctor's prodding and the session with a therapist most of which he spent pacing outside the room.

"I don't know what to think. She seems so well adjusted!" the therapist said to Bobby as she left to give her recommendation to Emily's doctor.

"She is."

"Yeah? The slit arms would certainly negate that conclusion!" she said sarcastically and walked away with her heels clicking on the floor.

Bobby knew she was frustrated with Emily's case. He couldn't blame her. He too would be baffled if he didn't know the truth. The kid just didn't fit the suicidal profile. Well, convincing that therapist to let Emily go was going to be a bitch. He would probably have to get Pastor Jim to call the hospital.

Bobby walked into the room and found Emily wearing a lost look on her face.

"Hey!" he greeted her.

She looked at him with those big eyes. "I'm scared, Bobby!" she confessed. He could tell that she hated making that confession. Hated admitting what she saw as weakness. The kid held herself to standards he hadn't seen in someone her age for years now. Whether they liked it or not, this girl was a Winchester. Well, she was the raised normal version of a Winchester.

"What happened in that garage?" he asked.

"I slit my wrists. It was stupid and selfish. I'm sorry the doctors called you but I'm glad you're here." Well, at least one of those statements was true.

He looked her in the eyes. She was scared, he had seen that look in many people's eyes including his. She was scared, not only of what she had seen and experienced, but of what people would think if she told them.

"Save that one for your therapist. You did not slit your wrists, Emily. You said something was there, something that got inside you and made you slit your wrists."

"That's crazy Bobby! I was high on medication!"

"So you would rather I believe you tried to kill yourself?"

"Yes!" her voice was so small, she sounded like the child she was desperately trying to outgrow. The child she still was in many ways. She couldn't tell Bobby, because, crazy as a suicide attempt was, the alternative explanation was crazier. He would have her committed.

"Trust me, I will not think you're crazy. Want to know why?" It was like he could read her thoughts. And he was now talking as if to a child. Probably responding to her scared child's voice. She really couldn't help that voice even though she was trying very hard.

"Why?" still with the child's voice. A scared child desperate for a parent's validation.

"Because I believe in the supernatural. Me and my friends hunt evil supernatural beings!"

"Really?" she scoffed. She was not falling for that one. He was clearly trying to use solidarity to get her to confess her madness. She was not stupid.

"Really. Check this out."

He got up and closed the blinds. She thought he would turn on the light because the room was now really dim, nearly dark but instead he got a flashlight from his pocket and turned it on and pointed it at the wall. Wait, what kind of person walks around with a flashlight? And why was its light blue?

"A star! Cute!" Emily could not help the sarcasm. She had expected more after all the drama of closing the blinds and whipping out the flashlight!

"It's a the seal of Solomon, I drew it there, there's a cross and a triquetra on your bed and one on the floor below the bed. And that ugly thing hanging over your head is a dream-catcher. I added a seal of Solomon on the bathroom door this morning."

"What are those and what are they all those for?"

"They're protection sigils," he answered as he turned off the flashlight and crossed to open the blinds.

"Protection from what?"

"Each is for protection from a number of things but the all encompassing word would be evil. Though by no means would these protect you from all the things out there. For example, you'll need salt for spirits and iron will keep most things at bay. A select few require silver."

Okay, this was elaborate; too elaborate to be a confession trap. Emily looked at Bobby with a look between awe and worry.

"Well, either you're crazy like me in which case, great cos you're awesome and you'd make a great roomie, or you're not crazy and I am, in which case be warned I know what the terms entrapment means, or you're not crazy and I'm not crazy and the world is more screwed up than I already thought!"

"The latter, I assure you."

"Personally I prefer the first options. Crazy, I can handle! There's drugs for crazy! For this ... this shit, I don't think so!"

"Well, sorry to disillusion you. You're not crazy, I'm not crazy. Now spill." She was eighteen, he was not going to admonish her for a swear word.

"You're really serious?" Emily was still unsure.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"You rarely look like you're joking, even when you are," she pointed out, smiling for the first time since she'd woken up.

"Okay, I'm dead serious. Now will you tell me what happened!"

"So you're like a ghostbuster or something?" Emily couldn't let it go.

"The term we prefer is hunter!" Bobby laughed. How he wished Dean had been here to hear that question. "Tell me what happened in the garage."

"Are there many hunters?"

Good God, children were hard to deal with! "There are a number of hunters, yes." Bobby sighed. He resigned himself to getting the story when she was ready to tell it.

"What does it take to become one?"

"I'm not telling you that until you tell me what happened!" Bobby bribed. She may be legally an adult, but she was still a child in some ways.

She huffed, crossed her arms and glared at him like a petulant child. Just as he was about to laugh and point out how childish she was being, something that she hated being told, she began to speak. With quite a bit of swearing, she told him what had gone down in the garage. He often had to calm her down, remind her to breathe when she got overwhelmed by the tale and her voice hitched or her breathing sped up. She was trembling by the end and he found himself holding her to his chest.

When she finished there was silence as Bobby tried to take it all in.

"Okay your reaction is not what I expected! The fact that you're not out there asking for a strait jacket for me is kind of freaking me out!" she mumbled against his chest.

He drew her back so he could look in her eyes. "Because I believe you."

Tears of relief shone in her eyes. "You have no idea how much that both reassures and scares me!" she said on a swallowed sob.

"Trust me, I can relate. I had the same reaction when I found out."

"How did you find out?"

"My wife."

"What happened to her?"

"I shot her; she was possessed by a demon. Bullet didn't get rid of the demon, she kept coming at me even though technically she was dead. A friend, Rufus exorcised the demon."

"I'm so sorry Bobby. That must have been awful."

"Yeah." he said gruffly. "So, the letter you gave me any chance it goes together with those other letters you mentioned and the box?" he quickly changed the subject like he always did when it came to Karen.

"Yes. I'm sorry I kept the box from you, but it was not pertinent to the search for my father and frankly, the letters are a little bizarre and I was embarrassed about what you would think about my mother and me by extension."

"No need to apologise. We both kept many things from each other, thinking the other would not believe. It's the world we live in. So where did these letters and box come from?"

"I found the box in a hidden safe in my parents' room when I was moving house after their death. Nearly everyday, from the day I was born till my seventeenth birthday, my mother wrote me a letter. When I was little she wrote these short and cutesy letters and as I got older, she wrote more serious ones. The letter I gave you, the one about my father, she wrote that on my thirteenth birthday. A few months after, she started sending crazy weird letters and until that day in the garage, I thought she had gone off the rails. She wrote about ghosts only she called them spirits, she mentioned witches, spells and hexes and other weird things. I started thinking she had come across some obscure post-teenage Harry Potter novels but then she started writing about demons and I nearly understood why my parents kept all that from me. They were trying to keep her brand of crazy away from me. But I can't get over the fact that they lied to me."

"People do a lot of questionable stuff when they're trying to protect the ones they love." Bobby said quietly.

She sighed. Logically, she knew her parents had made the right call given what they knew and believed but emotionally, she was hurt they had lied to her and to her biological mother, however crazy she had seemed to them.

"Were the letters the only things that were in the box?"

"No," she tried to hold back the yawn but it still broke through.

Bobby laughed. "Go ahead and sleep. You won't be alone when you wake up."

Emily rolled her eyes, "I'm not sleepy!" she exclaimed.

She might not have the name but she sure had the Winchester stubbornness. Bobby was amused.

"She also sent me lots of stuff, some cute, some cool, but a fair amount of it was plain weird. Of course knowing what I know now, it's probably important stuff. There's teddybears, dolls, glitter, a princess outfit, storybooks, a couple of CDs and then there are these weird pendants, amulets and medallions. So anyway nearly all the stuff she sent is in there except that awesome medallion that I put in my car. My mom gave me the ring on my sixteenth birthday and I always thought it was from her, but it wasn't."

Bobby wondered where the woman had found the things she had. Had she met a hunter at some point? He needed to get his hands on that box.

There was a lull in which she was beginning to sleep then she remembered. Her eyes popped open, "That ring…"

"Protected you until you took it off!" Bobby finished for her.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Do you think my parents realised? About it's power I mean?"

"It's possible!" Bobby shrugged.

"You know they read the letters? I found them organised in such a way that suggested they read everything she sent! Maybe when they read that it was a protection ring, they figured it couldn't hurt to give it to me. The worst scenario being it was a worthless pretty trinket, but the best being it would really protect me."

"They loved you so that's the most likely reason," Bobby readily agreed, but he knew it was unlikely. He knew enough educated people to know that Emily's parents had probably given her the ring because it was pretty or because it was from her biological mother. The educated were notoriously resistant to belief in the existence of the supernatural, even when it snacked on their children or ripped their limbs off; in fact he was very surprised by the speed with which Emily had accepted this new reality.

She smiled at him and settled back on the pillows in contentment. Her faith in her parents restored by Bobby's lie. He had never felt so happy about telling a lie like he did then.

"I'm going to go get a bite, okay?" he whispered to her, gently touching his hand to her forehead. He had become so handsy since this girl had walked into his life. Dean would have a large arsenal of sarcastic things to say about that! But for now, Bobby was all she had. He felt responsible for her.

"Okay," she sighed, nearly asleep.

Well, now Bobby couldn't put off calling the brothers and John.


	11. Chapter 11

After the bloody Mary case, Dean had decided to take a break. He figured they deserved it. Besides, Sam had been put through the wringer, both emotionally and physically by the case. He still hadn't said anything about what guilt he felt that had drawn bloody Mary to that stupid mirror. Of course neither had Dean, but he was not a talker. He did not need to talk and anaylse his feelings in order to ease his mind. Sam did and that's why it troubled Dean to no ends that Sam was not sharing.

So he had driven them an hour to Sandusky to see whether they could find and participate in one of those themed festivals that the place was famous for. They were in time to catch the last three days of the Rock on the Dock affair. They were having a great time, though it had taken Sam a whole evening to get out of his mind's dump. It had been a while since Dean had seen his brother so happy and last night, Sam had slept the whole night through without a nightmare. Dean knew the nightmare-less nights would not last and Sam's smile would dim but he was taking what he could when he could. He was glad they had taken the time off.

Today was the last day. They had gone their separate ways because they wanted to do different things. Dean was alternating his attention between two bottle blondes, a beer and wondering what his dork of a brother was doing.

Sam the dork was at the Follett House Museum having a great time and accurately imagining what his brother was doing. The two were due to meet back at the motel in three hours.

When Bobby called, it was the perfect excuse for Dean to extricate himself from the clutches of the two women. He had come to the sudden and sad realisation that he was not enjoying himself as much as he would have if his brother was there throwing disapproving looks his way. He walked outside and leaned against the wall to receive the call.

"Hey," he answered.

"Emily is in the hospital!" Bobby' said without preamble.

"What?" Dean shot off the wall. "What happened?"

"Well, it looked like a suicide attempt, it wasn't. It's supernatural related."

"What? How? How do you know?"

"Because of what she told me and what I heard the doctor say."

"What? Bobby, you're not making sense. Tell me everything from the beginning!" Dean commanded. He was already walking to the motel.

"I got a phone call about 11, yesterday morning from the hospital because mine was the last number she had called. She was found with her wrists slit in the basement garage of the apartment she was living in by a neighbour and taken to the hospital."

"And you're just calling now?" Dean was livid.

"Frankly, boy, calling you was the last thing on my mind! Now will you let me finish? When she first woke up she wasn't quite eloquent, but I got the gist of the tale. That coupled with the neighbour's statement and something the doctor made me believe she didn't do it. We had quite the talk when she woke up the second time around. Trust me when I say something supernatural tried to kill your sister."

"Do you know what?"

"No, not yet, haven't exactly got time to go home and hit the books!" the worry and fear Bobby was feeling were coming off as sarcastic anger.

"Shit!" Dean exclaimed. He run his left hand through his short hair, "This is my fault."

"What?" Bobby was incredulous. "How do you figure that?"

"This happened because I was not there to protect her!"

"You don't even know the details of what happened. What makes you think your being here would have made a difference? You and that brother of yours just love to carry blame around with you, don't you. This was not your fault. Now, you need to get here as soon as you can. Where are you?"

"Ohio. We'll hit the road as soon as we can. Bobby ... Please, please keep her safe." Dean rarely begged.

"You know I will."

Dean called Sam when he ended the call with Bobby. Sam did not answer. "Damn it Sam, call me back when you get this." he left a curt message.

He got the motel and packed his duffle. When he was done he chucked Sam's things in his duffel. It was thirty minutes before Sam called back.

"Get your ass to the motel right now. We have to leave!"

"What? What happened?"

"Just get here, I'll tell you then."

Sam found his brother waiting in the car having already cleared everything from the room.

"It's about time. What did you do? Street dance your way here?"

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Sam asked mildly as Dean started the car and peeled out of the motel parking.

"Bobby called. We need to get to Brandon, to Emily. Something happened."

Sam turned to look at his brother with huge eyes, "What?"

Dean told him what Bobby had said.

Both boys went quiet after the tale, each lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

Emily napped for two hours and within an hour of waking up, she was stir crazy. She was all slept out, and full of energy. The TV was boring, and Bobby had a headache from all her questions. Finally she asked him if she could just go for a walk, give him time to rest.

Bobby could not hear of it. It was 8 p.m and he had only protected one room in this hospital so there was no way Emily was leaving it unless she had her ring. He needed to go get that bloody ring.

"I can walk around the room," she begged. With a grumble about bloody stubborn Winchesters no matter what name they go by, he let her circle the room, watching her like a hawk.

He was glad he had given in because she tired herself out pretty soon and got back into bed without any argument. She asked Bobby for one of his books. There was blessed silence in the room as they both read; well, she read, he watched her reading over his own book, amazed by how easily she accepted what she was reading and how fascinating she found it. She fell asleep just after 11, still clutching the book.

* * *

"You cannot just burst in here past visiting hours and demand to visit a patient."

"Why not? She's our sister!" Dean was angry, not at this woman but at himself. Plus he was tired after the grueling drive. He had refused to let Sam drive because he needed the distraction.

"Well, she's our patient. And we have rules. And the rules don't allow visits after visiting hours."

"Lady, we would have been here sooner but we were away on business. Our uncle will vouch for us. He should be here."

"Yes our records show a Bobby Singer. He's with her right now. Has been the whole time."

"So go get him!"

"At this time of the night? The gentleman is probably asleep. Disturbing him would be objectionable."

"For fuck's sake, he's our uncle, he will not object!"

"Dean, go sit over there, let me handle this!" Sam hissed, pointing to the chair furthest from the nurses' station.

It was a testament of how distressed Dean was feeling, that he did as he was asked without grumbling about bossy little brothers.

"I'm sorry about my brother, but please cut him some slack, he's under a lot of pressure, we both are. Only he's the oldest so he feels more responsible. We would have been here earlier if we could but this is the best we could do. We really have to see our sister, assure ourselves that she's fine. Even though it's only for a minute, we'll take it. Please." He unleashed his patented puppy dog look.

It worked of course. She led them to the room. "Just don't wake her up!" she admonished, walking away before they entered the room.

"The puppy eyes superpower!" Dean joked.

Even though it was half hearted, Sam was glad his brother was trying to lighten the moment.

The room was dark but they could see the silhouette of the man in the reclining chair. He appeared to be asleep but they knew he was completely aware of his surroundings. All hunters were wired the same way.

* * *

Bobby heard the door open and he became alert immediately.

Emily had had a nightmare at about 3 a.m, something that had made Bobby curse giving her the book. The night nurse had come in then. She had restrained Emily, worried that the thrashing would open the stitches. She had also checked Emily's temperature and added some medicine to the IV. She was not scheduled to return for another two or so hours.

So who the hell was this? And now there was a second shadow.

"Balls!" he thought. Not that he couldn't take on two whatever or whoever these were, he just didn't want to do it in a hospital room.

"Hey old man!" Dean whispered.

"Who're you calling old? I could take you!" Bobby whispered with a relieved smile in his voice.

He got up and hugged the boys; quick, concise back taps. He knew Dean would not approve anything longer.

"How'ya holding up?" Sam asked.

Bobby knew he wasn't asking about just him, "I have a kink in my shoulder and Emily is still running a low grade fever but she's kicking the infection's ass and the wounds are healing really well. I think I can get her released tomorrow. I'll talk to the doctor, tell him Pastor Jim will be her shrink when she gets out of here if counseling is one of the options of release," he whispered.

"That's great."

Bobby sat back in his chair. Sam sat in the other available chair and Dean sat on its arm.

"So, she tell you in detail what happened?" Dean asked, ever the hunter.

In terse whispers, Bobby told them about the garage attack and the boys in turn told him about Cece Deco, Emily's grandmother.

"Sounds like quite a woman!" Bobby said.

"She is." Sam agreed.

"Kinda freaky if you ask me!" Dean said, "Think this has to do with Gale, whatever he was?"

"It's possible." Bobby conceded. "I can do some research based on what Cece said about him, try to figure out what he was."

"Umm, can you do research on Cece too?"

"Cece?"

"Yeah! Bobby, she could be supernatural too. I mean this thing could have been after Emily because of that line of her parentage?"

"You figured out what it was? This thing I mean?" Sam got into the discussion.

"No, not yet. I haven't researched anything, haven't been out of this hospital since I got here! I can tell you, hospital cafeteria food sucks!"

"I know!" Dean snickered.

"Thanks Bobby." Sam said quietly

"For what?"

"For being here."

"It was no trouble! Like I keep telling your daddy, family don't stop at blood!"

"Shit! Dad! We haven't told him!" Dean remembered.

"You think he'll answer his phone? He didn't when you called him to tell him about Emily in the first place. What makes you think he'll answer or call back now?" Sam scoffed.

"You knew about the call?" Dean was amazed. He thought he had been discreet.

"Yes, I know you Dean, you have to have told him something. Also, your decision to lie to her, weighed so much on your mind, I think it's the reason bloody Mary made you bleed too, that's how I know he didn't call you back, and tell you you had made the right decision."

"I think you were studying the wrong thing in college!" Dean laughed, not in the least offended by his brother's psychoanalysis of him.

* * *

The minute light filtered into the room the next morning, Bobby got up. "I'm going to hunt down the doctor, see if Emily can go home today or maybe tomorrow. I'll return with coffee." he explained to the boys who had stirred awake at his movement and were staring blearily at him.

"kay," Dean said and promptly dropped back to sleep.

"Need company?" Sam offered. He usually couldn't go back to sleep once he woke up.

"Nah, I'll be fine. Keep an eye on them."

And Sam did.

He looked at his sleeping siblings with an indulgent smile. How Dean could fall asleep in that position was a mystery. His brother was a contortionist. And it always amazed him how young Dean looked when he was asleep. When his eyes, that spoke of a missed childhood and told the horrors of a hunter's life, were closed.

Then there was Emily. This was the first time he was seeing her. From the time he had learnt she was their sister, he had imagined what she looked like. His imagination would never have come up with this girl in a million years. Even in sleep and illness, he could tell she was beautiful; high cheekbones and narrow chin and even closed, he could tell her eyes were almond shaped, the eyelashes long and her lips were full, but the hair was a mess! Sam chuckled. Sometimes, curly hair sucked!

However it was not her looks that affected him. It was how fragile and vulnerable and young she looked as she slept. That someone or something would try to hurt her, enraged him so much, he could feel his heart beat increase in tempo. Sam would do everything in his power to protect this girl.

Was this how Dean felt about him? Willing to do anything to keep him safe? Sam realised with a jolt that he already loved this girl, a girl he was yet to look in the eye or speak to. Was this how Dean had felt when Sam as a newborn had been placed in his arms 21 years ago in that hospital in Kansas? A fondness born of shared blood. There was no way to know if Sam would even like Emily when she awoke, it could go either way, but no matter what, he would always love her, that was for sure. He wondered what Dean would think of Emily. How he would feel about her. Would he love her? Or would he feel burdened by her addition to their family? After all, she was now another responsibility for him.

"I think your thoughts might set the curtains on fire!" Dean yawned and stretched luxuriantly.

Sam startled but recovered quickly, "About time, Sleeping Beauty!" he teased his brother.

"All this sleep is why I'm the handsome one!" Dean quipped. "Besides, you're the princess not me. I could kill for a cup of coffee!" he added.

"You'll have to wait for Bobby to return."


	12. Chapter 12

Emily awoke slowly and languidly then when she tried to stretch her arms like she did first thing every morning and found she couldn't, her eyes flew open. Why the hell was she restrained? And Bobby was gone, replaced by two guys who were talking quietly to each other. The one in the chair Bobby used was looking away from her and the other was in the spare chair by the wall facing him.

"Fuck! Isn't it a little early for this counseling bullshit?" she groused. She was a morning person, but waking up to strangers, and bound to a bed completely impaired her disposition. Also, the fact that she had loudly used swear words meant that more drugs had been introduced in her iv overnight and hadn't fully cleared her system. Drugs always did that to her; made her flippant and mouthy and removed her swear barrier!

The one seated right by the bed laughed, and turned to face her. He had dimples in both cheeks, not fair. She had just the one in her left cheek.

"She's not a morning person, just like you!" he quipped at the other one who just rolled his eyes.

"Can you please remove these restraints?" she asked at precisely the same time the dimpled guy said, "I'm Sam and that's my brother Dean."

"Figured as much," she said sarcastically. "restraints please? Then maybe I can shake your hand!"

Now the dimpled guy was frowning and the other one was smiling.

"Are we allowed to do that?"

"Shake hands? I'm pretty sure it's allowed. But I could be wrong. Let's call a nurse!" she finished with exaggerated chirpiness.

He frowned, "I meant undoing the restraints." he said in an affronted voice.

"Jesus, what do you think I'll do? Leap off the bed and tackle you?" Emily rolled her eyes, "You're like a million feet tall, wuss!" she added.

The other guy, Dean was now bent over laughing.

"I'm glad I can entertain you but it really sucks being held down like this!" Emily snapped.

"Say please and I just might consider it." Dean was still smiling not fazed by her attitude.

"Pretty please?" she fluttered her eyelashes theatrically.

"Sam, undo the restraints." he called.

"Dean!" Sam complained.

Emily decided if she was ever going to be free, she had to play nice, "Look, go ask a nurse or something, I haven't been restrained since I got here, I don't know why I was last night. I can assure you, I won't do anything stupid."

Dean waved his brother on. Sam undid the restraints. Emily removed the now empty iv tube, leaving the cannula in place of course.

"Ah that's better!" she sighed as she luxuriously stretched her arms over her head.

Then she pushed herself upright and swung her legs off the bed.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Sam yelled in alarm.

"I'm singing in the rain! What does it look like I'm doing?" She placed her feet on the floor and rose carefully holding onto the IV stand.

Dean first snorted with laughter at the comment then rushed over with a similar look of alarm on his face. "What the hell?"

Emily swatted away their hands. "Get off,"

"Get back in bed right now!" Dean ordered, in a big brother voice.

"Who died and made you the boss?" Emily complained.

Sam didn't know whether to laugh at Dean or fuss over Emily. He settled for a grimace.

"If you face plant we're not picking you up!" Dean growled dangerously.

"I wont face plant. I'm walking like two inches to the bathroom. Gosh, Bobby didn't fuss half as much as you two. Which by the way, why are you here? You don't look, sound or act like counsellors!"

The brothers looked at each other.

"After your bathroom break." Sam conceded.

Emily was now deathly curious and would have stayed right there to get the information but keeping her bladder from bursting was the more urgent need right now.

"Whatever!" she still huffed. Wow, she needed to pee the last of these drugs out and wash her face or she was going to earn herself a slap from these guys for being obnoxious!

She shuffled to the bathroom using the I.V. stand. As she washed her hands, making sure not to wet her bandages, she looked herself over in the mirror. She was still pale which with her usual skin tone was quite the feat. She must have lost a lot of blood. The bags under her eyes that she had noticed last night were gone now. Whoa what was that? Her curly hair had gone on strike. It looked like a bird's nest! She didn't think even a comb would salvage that mess. Her teeth felt like they were growing their own hair as well. Bobby had promised to bring her a few things today. "Cant wait," she thought as she rinsed her mouth after finger brushing. She washed her face and felt a lot more human. At least the drugs seemed to have finally cleared her system so chances were she was not going to get a beat down!

She opened the door and found Sam hovering right outside. She didn't say a word but he silently moved out of her way and followed behind her. They watched her warily as she got back into bed.

"What?" she asked after a quiet moment.

"Nothing!" Sam said.

"Just wondering if you have a double personality or something!" Dean quipped. He had returned to his original position as far away from the bed as he could get without leaving the room.

"What? Why?"

"Because you're less I don't know, obnoxious now!"

"Oh that! I'm so sorry," she said earnestly, "but I dare either of you not to be cranky when you wake up bound to a bed!"

"Depends on who did the binding!" Dean waggled his eyebrows. Sam's went up disapprovingly and Emily looked at him with an amused smile.

"As for the language, I usually just swear in my head, but drugs remove the block between my brain and mouth!"

She smiled cheekily and Dean and Sam found themselves smiling along; she had an infectious smile.

"When I was six, I fell out of a tree house, and got a terrible gash right here!" she pushed back her tangle of hair to expose a small scar near her temple. "Of course I needed stitches, and while I don't have needle phobia, there was no way the doctor was going to jab his local anesthesia needle anywhere on my head so I had to be put under." She stopped for effect. "Needless to say, when I came to, I burnt the nurses' ears with my words. Liberally seasoning everything sentence with shit, fuck or bloody, I called the doctor an ass, one of the nurses a bitch, I said bollocks to an old lady who was telling me off and asked her to stop talking smack! Everyone looked at my parents and me like we were mutants or something! My poor parents ... they were probably more shocked than everyone else because they had never heard me say such things, and didn't know where I had picked them up! I tried to stop myself too but it was impossible! Mom finally capped my mouth with her hand and run out of the hospital with me while dad settled the bill. The whole way home I was saying random things like, the bloody butterfly band aids are so cool, I fucking love candy, can we fucking stop for fucking ice-cream, and shit did you see that big ass teddy bear in that shop. Gosh, it was bad!" Emily was smiling with the memory.

It had indeed bad. She had traumatised her parents who were scared child-services would hear about the incident and take her away from them. Of course they had never heard her swear again because there had never been occasion to drug her till now. Somehow, despite being a huge daredevil, she had emerged from childhood without any more serious injuries.

The boys roared with laughter as they pictured a wide-eyed, innocent looking six-year old Emily dropping expletives.

"You're so not getting near my secret stash!" Dean laughed.

"Hey, not fair. As you've probably noticed, I'm not so bad these days! I didn't say bollocks even once!"

"Probably because only a little of the drug was left in your system when you woke up!"

"Yeah, probably!" she conceded.

They stayed in companionable silence for a few minutes before Emily remembered that she was owed information.

"So, you guys were going to explain your presence before I took a break. Now is a good time as any to tell me."

"Yeah…..umm I already told you I'm Sam and that's Dean … Winchester. We're…."

"John's sons!" Emily interrupted triumphantly.

"Of course, Bobby told you," Sam looked like he was saying duh to himself in his head.

"Bobby? No, he never mentioned you guys. And I never asked him!" she was looking puzzled. It had just occurred to her that Bobby had to have known about these guys and never brought it up. Well, neither had she, so that was fair.

"So how did you know about us if not from Bobby?"

Emily laughed. "Don't worry, all I really know is your names and dates of birth! It's not like I researched you guys or anything. I just did a cursory check up on John before I left home to start looking for my father so I knew he had sons."

"So you're looking for our father but not us? How come?"

She shrugged, "I was just trying to be considerate."

"Uh?" Sam was confused.

"Well, I figured, if John turned out to be my father, then he would tell you guys. But if he wasn't, then you guys would never have to know that some stranger had accused him of being a …. uh..." she was looking for a sensitive word to use.

"Douche?" Dean supplied.

"Not the word I would have chosen, but yeah. And for the record I am no longer looking for your father."

"Why not?" Dean got into the conversation, "You were so gung-ho about finding him!"

"I'm trying to find my father and John's not him."

"How do you know?"

"I did a DNA test. He wasn't a match. That pretty much rules him out!"

"Ummm….." Sam began then stopped and looked at his brother.

"Why do you need to find him so bad?" Dean asked.

Emily began to get suspicious. "Hey, you still haven't told me why you're here!" she realised as her heart began to beat faster. Shit how could she be so trusting. So what if these guys had not set off alarms in her head.

The brothers looked at each other.

"Oh no!" Emily reached for the nurse call button. She knew her reaction was adverse and unfounded, since she had not felt any weird vibes from these guys, and they knew Bobby, but for some reason, she was equating their presence with what had happened in the garage and could not help herself.

"Whoa, wait, don't press that!" Sam said holding his hands out in a placating way.

Dean just strode over and took it out of her hands and that completely warped her reality and made her panic.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?" her voice was getting high pitched with hysteria and she was beginning to hyperventilate.

"Great, scare her to death, why don't you?" Sam could not help snapping at his brother.

Dean grabbed her hand, she snatched it back. He spoke in a calming voice, "Hey, look at me. In, out, in, out..." he followed his words with actions.

That only served to remind her of Bobby.

"Bobby! I want Bobby! Where is he?" she wailed. She was vaguely aware that she was sounding like a clingy child, but Bobby was the one constant she had had in the past days.

"He went to talk to your doctor, to ask him if you could leave today." Dean placated.

"Bobby hadn't said anything to her. He would have; she was sure he would have. The panic increased. She was beginning to see black spots. She clutched her chest with her right hand.

"We won't hurt you. We're your brothers!" Sam said nearly desperately. He looked as distressed as she felt.

"What?" Emily's voice hitched on a half drawn breath.

Sam went round to the other side of her bed. She followed him with her eyes. When he took her hand, she did not snatch it back. He rubbed his thumb along it and she found herself calming down. The spots began to move back to the edges of her eyes until they were gone. The pressure in her chest reduced until she could take a full breath.

She was drenched with sweat and unbelievably tired. She closed her eyes, then snapped them open again and looked at Sam.

He knew her question without her voicing it.

"Well, that DNA sample you gave was compared with samples from us not our dad, and the test proved you were our half sister."

"What?" her hand dropped the button, "But Bobby said…"

"I asked Bobby to lie to you." Dean said.

She turned her head tiredly to look at him, "What? Why? Why would you do that? Why would Bobby do that?"

Ali, chose that very moment to walk in with her breakfast.

She frowned when she noticed the sweat and placed a hand to Emily's forehead, worried that she was still running a fever. She sighed with relief, "Hah, over-exertion! Guess brothers will do that to you! I'll give you a quick sponge down before you get to your meal and hopefully before your uncle gets here!"

"I don't need one!" Emily protested.

"Can't have you all sweaty first thing in the morning, it won't look good on my resume!" she said easily.

"Geez did the woman ever say a sentence that didn't end with a cheery exclamation?" Emily groused internally. She loved her nurse but she was currently feeling uncharitable because of the news she had just received and was yet to digest. She needed the nurse to leave now so she and these Winchester guys could talk.

The nurse oblivious to her patient's ill thoughts efficiently went ahead with her duties. "You won't be needing this now!" she said cheerily as she removed the cannula, wiped and rubbed some ointment on the spot and placed a Band-Aid in place.

She then unwrapped the bandages on Emily's arms, checked the wounds, beamed her approval at their healing progress and wrapped them up again.

Emily saw both Sam and Dean's eyes widen, then both winced when they saw the wounds and now there was a tic in Dean's jaw. Dean looked as angry as hell and Sam looked stricken.

Sam and Dean knew Emily had slit wrists but they had figured that the cuts were across the wrist, the way Hollywood suicides did it, they had thought the bandages round the whole lower arm were just overkill on the hospital's part. However, these cuts run from the wrist to the inside of the elbow on the left arm while the wound on the right arm had gone from the wrist to half way. Shit, this had been very serious. Emily could have died, no, should have died! Should have bled out. Whatever had done this had meant to kill her, no doubt about it.

The nurse finally kicked the boys out to give Emily the dreaded sponge down.

* * *

As she endured her sponge bath, Emily thought about Sam and Dean and her encounter with them.

She had known immediately that they were brothers. At first glance it was easy to miss as they did not look anything alike but their kinship was there in their chiseled jaws, aquiline noses and their body language. They were both good looking guys and gosh they were tall! Even with her nearly 5'9" frame, she appeared tiny next to them. The taller one, what was he seven feet … had wavy chestnut hair, almond shaped hazel eyes and dimples to die for. He seemed shy and sweet and for some reason brought to her mind puppies and rainbows and he was obviously the younger of the two. The other one, only shorter by a couple of inches, had short sandy hair, almond shaped green eyes and a scattering of light freckles that did nothing to soften his hard masculinity. He had swagger that made her think of smooth talking playboys and fast cars. She'd felt an affinity for them; like she had woken up to find her best friends in the room with her. She had barely questioned their presence.

They had not given off any worrisome vibes when she had woken up and found them teasing each other. She would have chuckled at the sleeping beauty and princess remarks if she hadn't been disgruntled by the restraints and out of sorts from knowing that strangers had watched her sleep. She hated anyone, with the possible exception of her parents, watching her sleep. Sleep stripped people of control, took away their defenses, made them vulnerable and she hated feeling vulnerable, hated people thinking she was vulnerable. No wonder she hated hospitals. At some point or another, someone, and most likely a stranger, watched you sleep. It was very unsettling.

Anyway, even when Sam and Dean had run to her as she got off the bed to go to the bathroom, she had not been alarmed seeing their concern as genuine. She had even enjoyed making them laugh with that childhood story, had even felt a weird sense of accomplishment. They had great laughs, happy laughs. Dean threw his head back when he laughed, a deep happy laugh while Sam leaned forward, his hair flopping over his face as he slapped his hand against his thigh in amusement. His laugh was more of a cackle and it was hysterical to hear.

Surprisingly, even as she grabbed the call button to summon the nurse, she hadn't felt any danger, just mild concern and a touch of irritation at their caginess. Then Dean had moved across the room, so quickly, so quietly, his gait controlled and sure: the gait of a dangerous man. Then, she had seen Sam react to his brother's movement, a slight nearly imperceptible change in posture as if readying himself to provide back up and she had realised he was as dangerous as his brother. It hit her suddenly, that she was in the company of two very dangerous men. Even though her instincts said they were not there to hurt her, her emotional side was not easily convinced. She reacted the way an animal reacts to a predator even when the predator is not after it. Dean's forceful grabbing of the call button had effectively removed her brain from the thought equation and turned her into a hyperventilating, whiny, crybaby. Damn, that had been embarrassing. Being hysterical like a drama queen in front of strangers was embarrassing but being hysterical in front of strangers who then turn out to be your brothers was downright mortifying!

Well, in retrospect and with her brain back on line, she realised her new brothers were indeed dangerous, she had definitely read that right about them, but it was because they were hunters, like Bobby, not crazy killers out to get her.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: In this story, Dean is 25, Sam is 21. Emily as you know is 18.**

* * *

"This girl, their sister was freaking adorable!" That had been Dean's first thought as he watched Emily sleep. If at the risk of death, he was pressed to add another adjective, he'd say pretty. She looked like a doll with her delicate facial bone structure and long lashes and full lips open in sleep. Awake, she'd be something else! He was a connoisseur of women, objectively, he knew she was more than cute, that other guys would find her beautiful, possibly hot. Even with her skin leeched of its colour, and slight bugs under her eyes and her hair looking like a badly built bird's nest, she still looked great. But he was not another guy and he was not objective, he was a big brother and his baby sister was so damn adorable.

His second thought followed close on the first and it scared him, he realised that just like he would for Sam, he would kill for Emily. Rip limbs off something or even someone if they touched a hair on her head or Sam's! The truth of that thought and the intensity of that feeling struck him with mild horror but he was not sorry.

His third thought wasn't until she opened her eyes and looked at them, eyes wide and still filled with sleep, "Shit, between Sam and Emily, and their puppy eyes, he was finished! He would let those two walk all over him. He would let them get away with murder." Emily's eyes were definitely an amber version of Sam's hazel ones. It wasn't just the same shape, and puppy dog ability, they both held the same sadness that told of a recent loss, both had the same haunted look of an innocent who has been shocked by the existence of evil … it amazed Dean that even after all these years, Sam still had that look. The last, and as far as he was concerned, the best thing about his brother and sister's eyes, was the fact that they shone with a goodness and a stubborn hope that he fervently hoped no evil would ever erase.

His fourth thought was peppered with shock at Emily's first word at waking. "Did she just say fuck? Whoa, that word sounds so wrong coming from her. I am going to have to do something about that." Which was hilarious because he and Sam swore with the best of them and had done so since they were fifteen! This kid's language didn't even begin to scratch the surface of their vocabulary.

His fifth thought was that their adorable sister was only adorable when she was asleep because she was remarkably obnoxious! Then just as remarkably, she had had a Mr. Hyde to Dr. Jekyll transformation after the much disputed bathroom break, emerging from the room with a sunny disposition that matched her status as adorable baby sister. And she was not really that foul mouthed … well she was but apparently only when she was drugged. He hoped the day she had to be given morphine would never come.

However, he had to admit, she was wickedly sarcastic and fucking hilarious to boot! On a normal day, there was probably no shocking this girl, which was good because he was far from saintly, and he couldn't have her huffing or fainting at his behaviour or speech. He simply didn't want her acting or speaking like him, is all.

Then the nurse had unbound her arms and he had seen the stitched wounds. He had felt unbridled rage. He had had to clamp down his jaw to keep himself from exploding. The thing that had done this to his sister was going to die! No doubt about that!

His current thought as he paced the hallway waiting for the nurse to get out of his sister's room was regret. He regretted his decision to lie to her even though he had done it with the best of intentions, he regretted his spontaneous unthinking act of wrenching the call button out of her hand and freaking her out, but most of all, he regretted that she had been exposed to the supernatural, to their world. He hadn't wanted that for her. It looked like the legendary Winchester luck did not care whether you went by the name or not.

* * *

Sam meanwhile leaned against the wall outside the room and put his hands in his pockets and watched his brother pacing the hallway.

Whatever he was feeling, he knew Dean felt a hundred times.

He felt helpless, they had not been able to protect Emily by their absence. Dean did not do helpless very well. He hated the feeling, thought it made him weak. He refused to be vulnerable even when he was, and Sam knew it was killing him to be feeling that way.

Sam was feeling guilty; guilty for not being there when Emily needed them, guilty for not fighting harder with Dean on the decision to stay out of her life. So he was fully aware that Dean was carrying a guilt load too big to carry because it was him who had ultimately made the decision.

Mostly, Sam was angry, angry at a world that let things like this happen to the innocent, angry at the thing that had tried to kill their sister, angry that despite everything, she had been drawn into their world. If he was this angry, then Dean was obviously furious.

* * *

"Hey guys, what happened?" Bobby asked with alarm at finding them in the hallway.

"Just bath time." Sam said straightening off the wall and accepting the coffee cup Bobby handed him. "So, is she leaving today?"

"Yeah. The doctor was agreeable but it was tough convincing the therapist. I had to call Jim. He was a good sport considering he's in the dark about Emily."

"Bet, he's waiting for the whole story now!" Dean said.

"You called it!" Bobby laughed, "So I which one of you is coming with me to get Emily's car?"

Sam looked over at Dean and smiled cheekily. He immediately knew what his brother was thinking. Dean did not want to drive a girly car, like the one he was sure Emily drove but he did not want to stay behind alone with Emily. He wouldn't know what to do or say to her.

"We'll both go!" Dean suggested.

"Someone has to stay here with your sister."

"Yeah, you should. She's used to you. Sam and I will drive there and Sam will drive her car back."

"You boys don't even know where she was staying! And I ain't drawing no map!"

"Fine, I'll come with you." Dean conceded. He'd rather sit behind the wheel of a girly car than stay and possibly traumatise his sister beyond repair. He beseeched his brother to be careful and left the hospital.

* * *

Bobby knew better than to ask Dean what he thought about Emily; he would only get a pithy, guarded answer so he settled for, "So did you tell her? About the DNA test I mean?"

"Yeah! Well, Sam did."

A long pause followed before Bobby spoke.

"It's like pulling damn teeth! Usually can't get you to shut up!" he grumbled. "So? How did she take it?" his tone implied the exasperation he was feeling.

"She hyperventilated!"

"Oh!"

"Scared the shit out of us!"

"Yeah, bet it did," Bobby thought. That Dean was admitting it, meant it had terrified him. "So you guys haven't really spoken about it?"

"No, the nurse came in before Sam could do his puppy eyes thing. I would have loved to see that by the way because Emily has similar eyes. I wanted to see if she has the same puppy eyes superpower. It would have been this epic puppy eyes battle!" he laughed ruefully.

"Yeah, it would have been something!" Bobby agreed. After a few minutes of silence, he added, "You need to talk to her as well Dean. Don't just leave it to Sam."

"Talk to her? I wouldn't know where to start. Sam's the one who's about sharing and all that mushy shit!" Dean chocked out in alarm.

Having been a pseudo-father / hero to his younger sibling and a soldier / right hand man for his father nearly all his life, he was aware his communication skills had not been nurtured. He was fine with this shortcoming because the only person he had really needed, understood him just fine. Sam, despite being a touchy-feely, explore your feelings and talk about them, emo kind, had always known when an offer to drive the impala was sympathy, when a need for touch and closeness was expressed with an impromptu spar, Sam knew the word bitch when leveled at him meant I love you kid brother and he implicitly accepted so many other non conventional, non verbal signs from Dean.

But Emily was new unbroken ground. He had no idea how to talk to her and after messing up so bad the first time, he wasn't ready to try again.

Hearing the near panic in Dean's voice, Bobby decided to let it go. For now, at least.

They drove in silence for a while then Dean asked, "So what exactly is your plan regarding Emily?"

"Long term, I don't know, we'll cross that bridge. Short term, get her well, figure out what tried to kill her and kill it. After that, we'll see."

"That's a beautiful strategic plan!" Dean said sarcastically.

"Don't give me lip, boy. I don't hear any ideas coming from you!"

Bobby found parking on the street and they walked into the garage. Dean's eyes cut to the left and he did not even notice Bobby move to the right because he was instantly drawn to the classic car parked in a slot next to a pillar.

"Wow, look at that beauty!" he whispered in awe and immediately walked to it, there was time enough to get Emily's car whichever it was of the others in the garage. As he got closer to the attractive car, he realised it wasn't black but a dark shade of green. "Wow, a '62 Lincoln Continental!" he whispered disbelievingly.

If ever there was a car he would willingly drive that wasn't his Impala, this was it. He loved the suicide doors, despite their ridiculous name or maybe because of their ridiculous name. This car had been beautifully restored. He ran his hand along it's side, the paint job was flawless, though there was a slight dent on the passenger side door that was barely noticeable, the stainless steel wheel covers were in place. The car looked like it was just off the factory line!

"Great, you found it!" Bobby said coming round from the other side.

"Found what?" Dean said distractedly. He was now bent at the knees peering inside the car. However owned this car played either played the guitar or was running drugs inside a guitar gig-bag, these days you could never know.

"Emily's car, yah damn idjit!"

Dean popped up, "This is Emily's car?" his voice was incredulous.

"No, it's the tooth fairy's car!" Bobby threw the keys to him.

"Wow, the kid's got taste!" Dean said reverently. He had expected her to be driving a new model VW beetle or Prius or something similar.

"Are you gonna get into the damn thing or are you going to stand there and make gooey eyes at it?" Bobby gripped.

"This is not a damn thing, Bobby. This is a classic!" Dean was outraged.

"Like I don't know that!" Bobby rolled his eyes. He would never confess that he had had a similar reaction to the car.

Dean opened the car and got in. Inside, the car was even more impressive. It's interior was deep burgundy, not the colour he would have chosen but hell, it worked with the walnut paneling and the outside black-green or whatever that colour was. The dashboard had been tricked up, modernised, something he would never do but it was done subtly and did not take away from the car's style. He certainly couldn't fault the work.

As he leaned over to check out the guitar case, he saw the laptop bag in the passenger side footwell. "Hmm, geek!" he thought. "Sammy will be so happy! A girl dork just like him!" he snorted laughter at his own thoughts. Man he was freaking hilarious. Inside the case was a guitar and not drugs, phew!

He started the car and drove back to the hospital.

* * *

When the nurse had left the room, Sam had gone back in.

Emily was standing by the window looking outside. She turned and leaned against the wall, crossed her arms in front of her chest and silently looked at him with guarded eyes. For some reason, her posture reminded him of Dean. He affected it when he was trying to be cool about something that was making his blood boil or when he was in a charged, but not yet outwardly dangerous situation. It always worked; either the adversary or adversaries would get intimidated by his cool demeanor and back off or would underestimate his deceiving unprepared stance and get their asses handed to them.

Sam shook his head to clear it and sat down at the head of the bed so he could be close to her without crowding her. Still she remained silent.

"Awkward," Dean's voice whispered theatrically in his head. Sam nearly laughed. Even in absentia, Dean managed to throw in a quip.

"Hey," he began.

"Hey," she replied.

"Dean and Bobby went to get your car. You're being sprung today. I don't know how Bobby swung it!" he smiled and waited. Nothing. She was clearly not going to make this easy. It's good it was him that stayed and not Dean. Dean would be stumped, wouldn't know what to say. The two would sit there in stony silence.

"Look, I guess you're upset that we lied to you and I can understand that."

"Try hurt," Emily thought. She didn't say anything though.

Sam went ahead to explain the argument his brother had used on him. It had made a lot of sense when Dean had said it, and it still did but Sam was aware it sounded a little condescending. They had decided what was right for her without even discussing it with her, like she was a little kid. He remembered how much he had hated it when their dad had done that to him and sometimes Dean.

Emily was unbridled and could be rather emotional at times, but she was also logical and rational and she accepted the explanation. It made sense and she supposed in their shoes she would have done the same. Besides they had made the decision before meeting her so it had not been affected by her as a person, but by her as an idea. So there was really no need to be hurt. Lying to her had been done with the best of intentions.

She shrugged slightly before she spoke, "I suppose it was a good plan. And despite it, you came when I was in trouble so I can't fault you on your decisions."

She was tired of standing so she edged past Sam and sat at the end of the bed. They sat in silence, both staring intently at their hands in their laps.

Then the door burst open.

"Dude, your car is awesome!" Dean shouted with awe and expansive right hand movements, then he stopped when he took in the scene in front of him.

"Can't you open doors like a normal human being?" Sam complained moving his hand from his side where he had stashed his gun and turned to look at Emily.

When the door had smashed in, Emily had jumped off the bed and backed up and in a flourish of movement Sam had moved in front of her, shielding her completely while reaching for his gun.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked Emily.

"I'm fine! That was awesome!" Emily was surprisingly not shaken just highly impressed. "Your reflexes are unbelievable!"

"So were yours actually!" Sam said truthfully. The kid had been up and away from the door so fast, Sam had only had to move sideways and not sideways and forward to shield her. "And you should see him move." Sam added as he smacked the back of Dean's head.

Dean rubbed the spot and grinned, "Sorry guys!" He knew he should be feeling guilty for scaring Emily again, but instead, he was happy. He was oddly touched that his kid brother still considered him his hero even now and that Emily had genuinely complimented Sam on his skills and erased a little of the self doubt he had in him, planted and watered diligently by their father who had accused Sam of only being good for research. Besides, Emily was not scared this time. In fact, he could swear when she moved from Sam's shadow, she was in a crude fighter's stance!

"So Emily's car?" Sam prompted him.

"Is unbelievable." Dean said in the same amazed voice from earlier.

"Thanks!" she said with a shy smile.

Dean slid the small folded over plastic bag from under his left armpit and handed it to her. "We went to a T.J. Maxx and bought you these, we didn't want to go through your suitcase or duffle ... privacy and all that!" he said waving his right hand expansively again.

Inside was a pair of jeans, a button down shirt, a comb and a toothbrush.

"Thanks, that was very thoughtful of you," she said in a surprised voice.

Dean shrugged. No better than Sam at receiving compliments.

Emily went to the bathroom and quickly changed out of the hospital gown and into the clothes. The jeans fit surprisingly well but the shirt was on the large side; probably intentional as they might have been thinking of the bandages. She was glad for the feeling of clean teeth. She didn't bother with the hair, the comb was small teethed and wouldn't be very effective.

Outside, Dean showed Sam the ring. It was silver, with a pentacle and two angels holding the circle round the pentagram, their bodies forged as one, actually making the ring, and there were runes on the inside.

When Emily got out of the bathroom, the boys were talking with Ali who was standing behind a wheelchair.

"Your ride!" she said cheerily, "I was told you're leaving us today."

"Nuh hu, I'm not getting into that!" Emily protested, "My legs are working just fine!"

"Hospital rules, it's this or back to the bed."

Emily really wanted out of the hospital. "Fine!" she huffed and sat in the chair.

"We'll take it from here," Sam offered as Ali made to roll the chair out the door.

"I still have to come along," she said as she relinquished it to Sam.

Dean handed the ring to Emily. "Thanks," she said taking it and put it on her right pinky. Both boys held their breaths, not sure what would happen. Emily beamed, "Were you expecting a blue light or did you expect me to disappear?"

"Something like that!" Dean admitted sheepishly. The four of them laughed.

"That's really pretty," Ali said of the ring. Indeed it was.

"It looks just like yours, Dean!" Sam quipped about the ring Dean wore on his right ring finger.

"No it doesn't!" Dean said indignantly, "Mine is a dude ring!"

Sam chuckled.

As they walked the hallway, rode the lift and walked towards the exit, Dean and Emily discussed cars, Sam and Ali all but forgotten. First Dean asked about the Continental. He wanted to know where she had got it, the name of it's colour, and who had done the work on it, expressing mild shock when he learnt it was Emily and her mother who had restored it. Then he had mentioned his beloved Impala and the conversation had really taken off. Both of them were passionate about the topic, waving their hands around and speaking animatedly. Sam pushed the wheelchair and idly listened to his siblings talk with an indulgent smile on his face. Nearly everyone they passed smiled at them.

Bobby stood near the entrance and watched them approach. He had a lump in his throat. Gosh he loved these kids.

He probably didn't know it, but as he talked with his sister about a much beloved topic, Dean softened. His face was still chiseled and defined, but the lines around his mouth disappeared and the crinkles around his eyes increased even though he was not physically laughing. But most of all, his eyes lost that terribly aging I've-seen-so-much-evil-in-my-short-life-look. Gosh, he looked even younger than his twenty-five years. He covered his feelings with a smart mouth and a cocky attitude but Bobby could always see through the facade. It was gratifying to see him genuinely happy.

Sam was smiling. Bobby could tell he had no idea what his siblings were talking about but was simply happy that they were happy. He was content to be in their company. Despite having known no other life but a nomadic hunter's one, he had been such a sweet, open, happy child but life had slowly eroded that innocence. He had somehow, stubbornly held on to hope and until his girlfriend's death which had been the proverbial nail in the coffin. Lately he had been guarded, closed off, but now, Bobby could see the flicker of optimism in him; could see the child he had been.

Then there was Emily. She was still so young, it broke Bobby's heart to know she had been marked. For now she still retained the innocence of the newly enlightened, the ones who have only caught a glimpse of the evil, the ones who have not stared it in the face so long, they forgot themselves. The garage incident had scarred her but she was strong, she would be okay. He could see that now. For a while, the confident, dynamic girl he had come to know had disappeared, replaced by a clingy, withdrawn shell but she had reemerged in nearly no time.

These Winchester kids were truly something else.

He waved them over. "I've signed everything that needs signing, picked up your medicine and instructions so we're all set to go."

As soon as they cleared the hospital doors, Emily turned round in the chair, "Can I get out of this thing now?"

"Sure!" Ali laughed heartily. "It's not pinching your ass or anything, is it? Oh, I'm going to miss you, but don't rush back okay? In fact, try not to return at all!" she added cheerily.

They all thanked her and watched her reenter the hospital.

Dean was torn. He wanted to drive his baby and he wanted to drive Emily's continental too.

Fortunately Emily took the decision out of his hands by drooling over the Impala and stating her desire to ride in it. With a grin and a rueful sigh, he threw the Continental's keys to Sam.

Emily smiled at the creaky doors then practically bounced into the car. "Let's hear that engine purr!" she threw his words back at him.

Dean laughed and started the car. Both enjoyed the throaty sound with stupid grins on their faces.

Sam and Bobby smiled at each other before getting into their respective cars. They were happy seeing Dean and Emily bond.


	14. Chapter 14

When they got to Bobby's, Emily was asleep. Dean turned off the car and opened his door but stayed in his seat watching her. Should he wake her up or carry her into the house? He was at a loss. She looked like a little kid when she was asleep, waking her just felt cruel, but was it okay to carry her? Would that be crossing some line he was not aware of? Sam would know what to do but he was already disappearing into the house carrying the suitcases from the trunk of the Continental, while Bobby was just tugging the duffle out of the car.

"Tell you what, if you open the door and she startles and wakes, you let her walk, if she doesn't wake, you carry her in!" he chuckled.

Dean had no snarky reply to that, so he just rolled his eyes and got out of the car and over to the passenger side. She did not wake when he opened the door so he scooped her up. She wasn't as light as he had thought she would be given her size. It wasn't that she was heavy, she just wasn't light. For a brief moment, she snuggled against him, then she woke up and said she could walk. Dean did not say a word as he set her on the ground. She muttered her thanks then walked to her car. As she made to get the box, Dean took it.

"I've got this," he said.

She let him take it, checked the passenger side and on finding both the laptop and guitar gone, preceded him into the house.

Once inside the house, she did not know what to do with herself. Bobby was nowhere in sight. She had only been in the house twice and both times, she had not gone beyond the kitchen and the yard. Bobby had not offered a tour. She moved off to the side so Dean could go past her. He took the box to the study and placed it on the desk. Turning he found her just standing there looking at him.

"I take it Bobby never gave you the grand tour, come on!" he bounded up the stairs. He pointed out his and Sam's room, Bobby's, the bathroom and then as he walked into the room assigned to her, he collided with Bobby and Sam who were moving things out.

"Sorry, the room ain't quite ready." Bobby said sheepishly.

"That's okay. Anything I can help with?"

"Not with those stitches you can't."

"I can help with the smaller pieces!"

"These are the smallest things here!" Sam huffed under the weight of a metal trunk whose contents he didn't even want to know. He disappeared up the attic.

"Oh!" Emily hated being a burden and currently having no task to perform made her feel like one.

Dean laughed as he bent to pick up the box Bobby was pointing out for him to carry. "Relax She-Hulk, you'll have plenty of things to do. We're just the muscle. When we're done moving things out and rearranging the furniture, you'll be responsible for the rest, cos I don't do decor!"

Emily did not want to laugh, no, that would defeat the resolution she had made to herself, during the drive, but she could not help the smile that cracked her face. Dean was hilarious!

"Bobby, what the hell is in here?" Dean's voice was breathless as he left the room.

"Maybe, I can go start dinner or something!" Emily offered. Bobby was investigating the contents of the wardrobe.

"Just make make a lot of noise so we know you're fine down there."

"Okay!" she was already out the door.

"And keep those dressings dry!" he yelled after her.

"I know Bobby!" she thundered downstairs already making the noise he had asked her to.

Sam returned to the room to get more things. "Where's Emily?"

"Kitchen. Making Dinner."

"Alone?" Sam sounded horrified, like he couldn't believe Bobby could be so careless with something so precious.

"Relax, Sam. She'll be fine. She's got the ring and I asked her to make as much noise as she can." Bobby smiled. Sam and Dean being the protective brothers they were, were going to attempt to cocoon and coddle Emily. Having learnt that Emily was fiercely independent, Bobby knew she was going to hate it and was going to let them know. Living in this house was sure going to be interesting in the next days.

"Damn, this big brother gig is not easy. I wonder how Dean didn't keel over with a heart attack when I was out of his sight!" Sam grumbled.

Whether Emily was good at following instructions, or was just adept at making noise, it was hard to tell. When she wasn't banging saucepans and spoons, she was talking to Rumsfeld or hollering a medley of songs. Damn, the girl could sing. Maybe she was just as competent with that guitar of hers. Sam and Dean looked at each other as they moved the bed together to the end of the room.

"She sure didn't get that from dad!" they both smiled as they thought about their own nonexistent singing skills.

Nearly an hour later, they trudged downstairs.

"That smells good." Bobby said.

"It's nothing fancy, just pot-roast!" She did not add that it was one of only five dishes she could cook really well. "So, I'll go do my room's decor! You can start without me." she smiled as she left.

* * *

An hour later, she still wasn't back down so Sam went to check up on her. She was asleep on top of her bed, tinny sounds coming from the earphones of her iPod, her guitar lying next to her on the bed. For a tall girl, she sure curled into a small ball. Her face hidden by her hair.

The room was neat, not in the extreme military precise anal neat way their father demanded and got from Sam but not Dean who despite being daddy's good little soldier just couldn't do neat. No, this room was neat in a subtle, relaxed way. On the vanity that had belonged to Karen, were assorted hair and skin products and accessories, not arranged in any discernible way. There were two laptops, a bunch of books, and a binder notebook on the battered reading desk that she had asked them to leave in the room. The empty guitar case was propped up against the desk. The bed was made with the blue and lilac comforter he had carried in from her car which he had to admit was awesome. On the nightstand stood an old lamp they had found in the attic, the brown paper bag containing her medicine and three framed photos which drew Sam's attention. One was of a couple, the height difference between the two was staggering, the woman was tiny and the man was a giant, which coming from Sam, meant the man really was big. Another picture had Emily and the same couple, so he concluded they were her parents, Emily towered over her mom and her dad in turn towered over Emily; they were quite the trio. In the third picture, she had purple streaks in her dead straightened out hair, an arm around the shoulder of a much shorter pink haired girl and another arm round the waist of a brown haired boy. Another boy stood to the left of the pink girl and a third boy stood next to him. All five were grinning, so carefree and young. Sam smiled at the pictures. The closet was closed but he imagined she unlike Dean had hang and folded her clothes neatly away but probably not as fastidiously as Sam would have. He shook his head ruefully and went back downstairs.

* * *

Bobby and the boys had their dinner and went to the study with their beers. Sam wanted to go through the box and keep an ear out for Emily. In the study, Bobby settled down with a book, Dean turned on the TV, and snorted as he watched Sam opening the box like a child opening a Christmas present. Sam ignored his brother's derision. Their sister was an enigma, and something had tried to kill her, maybe the answers were in this box.

The stuff in the box was amazing but where would he begin the sorting. His logical mind made him decide to look for the letters figuring he could use them to sort the other items in the box. It took him a while to figure that the letters were in the manila envelopes. It only clicked for him when he realised there were exactly seventeen of those manila envelopes. He grabbed the envelope marked one and pulled out the sheaf of papers. It was evident that they had been folded and sent in smaller probably individual envelopes but after they had been read, by Emily's parents no doubt, they had been left unfolded then bundled and clipped together in chronological order. One of her parents must have been a cataloguing freak. "Well, this makes my life so much easier!" Sam thought gratefully. He began to read.

I am Celeste and I am your birth mother the first letter began. Short of actually writing cooing sounds, Celeste wrote like she was speaking to a baby. It was a short sweet non-consequential letter. Using it, Sam dismissed the pink teddy bear in the box.

He went to the next letter which was really in the same vein as the first only without the formal introduction. He dismissed the purple plastic heart shaped locket. And so it went, he read the letters and dismissed objects as they were mentioned. He laughed at the sparkly fairy wings, that accompanied one of the letters from the sixth year. He knew that was the year Celeste had finally found Emily.

The length of the letters increased and the language changed over the years as Emily grew, but Celeste consistently wrote like a mother, a mother who clearly loved her child. Knowing that Emily had been adopted without her mother's consent broke Sam's heart.

Hours later, he wiped his face with a heavy hand and glanced at his brother who was now sleeping, having been bored by the TV. He had to admit he was not doing any better himself. The letters were sweet but they were inconsequential. The only thing they were achieving was making him miss having never had a mother. He knew Dean would not have read this far. He would have packed it in after the first two lines of the first letter. Dean didn't do mushy and he certainly didn't commit to anything that reminded him of his mother.

Thirty minutes later, Sam decided to call it a night. He kicked Dean's foot to wake him.

"What?" Dean glared.

"Go to bed! You're drooling!"

"Bitch, I do not drool!" Dean complained as he stood up, mumbled goodnight to Bobby and walked out of the room.

"Yes you do, Jerk! 'nite Bobby," Sam said as he got up to follow his stumbling brother out of the room.

"You want me to take over?" Bobby asked indicating the box.

"If you're up to it, sure. I got as far as the first letter in the tenth envelope. There's nothing in there Bobby. Just these mushy letters she wrote to a kid." Sam was sure Dean would call them corny. Their mother's death and their father's subsequent quest had really done a number on him.

"Yeah, well, at first they're normal, but Emily said the letters started getting freaky after a while."

"Well, I'm yet to get to the freaky stuff and I've had it. You can have a crack at it."

He went to the kitchen, warmed some of the pot roast and carried it to Emily's room. At some point in the evening, she had woken up, turned off the iPod and placed it on the nightstand, returned the guitar to its bag and gotten under the covers. She was completely covered, he had to draw back the covers to feel her forehead. He was concerned about how much she was sleeping. When he was reassured she was not running too high a fever, he shook her gently.

"Hey, you need to eat, swallow your pills and apply the antibiotic on your arms."

"Mmmm," she said groggily. She came awake slowly. She took the plate and placed it on the nightstand. "Thanks. I'll take the plate back down when I'm done. You don't have to wait on me."

Sam knew when he was being dismissed.

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."


	15. Chapter 15

The next day, Emily was up really early, and out of the house with Bobby before her brothers woke.

Bobby was driving to Bismarck in North Dakota to secure and destroy a possibly cursed painting. He had heard about the 'Crying Boy Painting' and how every house it was hang in burnt down. He had never found any evidence to prove this but when he got the call from someone he had helped out in Bismarck, he had to check it out even though he was skeptical. He knew the boys could have handled it, but it was small fry and while he was no longer as active an hunter as he had once been, choosing instead to provide information and false authentication for other hunters, he still took the occasional case. This salt and burn gig would be enough to get his blood flowing, keep him from getting rusty. He hadn't wanted to bring Emily along but she had begged and used those puppy dog eyes of hers and as it was not a dangerous gig he took her along.

Sam who had wanted to continue with the box could not concentrate on anything. Dean was restless too, even though he pretended he was okay. They trusted Bobby, knew he would watch over Emily, keep her safe but they still felt unable to relax when she was not nearby, she nearly died because they had not been there with and for her.

When Bobby and Emily returned, nearly fifteen hours later, the boys were at the front door waiting. Emily greeted them cursorily and went upstairs.

Bobby frowned. The kid had barely stopped talking on the way over; the salt and burn while not dangerous had been more dramatic than usual. The painting had simply refused to burn with just salt. They'd tried every accelerant he had in his truck and still nothing. It was only after he doused the thing with 'Oleum Sanctum' that it burnt with hissing and actual human cries. Emily had been simultaneously freaked out and highly impressed and had talked the whole six hour journey back. He had fully expected her to launch into a retelling for her brothers but she simply said an extremely cheery hello and dashed into the house.

"What the hell Bobby, did you have to take her with you?" Dean growled angrily.

"She wanted to come along."

"So what? You say no! You're a grown man, she's a kid!"

"Kid? I dare you to say that to her face!" Bobby laughed. "It was a simple salt and burn guys. She was never in harm's way. I even had her carry her meds."

"There is nothing like a simple salt and burn, Bobby, especially not when a Winchester is involved! You know that!"

"Guys, you have to loosen the apron strings at some point!"

Dean coloured, "Loosen the apron strings? Loosen the apron strings? Bobby, she almost died because we were not there!"

"No, she almost died because something tried to kill her! It was not your fault. Both of you need to get that in your damn noggins. Besides, you can't keep her by your side forever, and you can't lock her away from the world; she's alive, so let her live, even if that might put her in harm's way. That ring will keep her safe, at least from whatever tried to kill her!"

"Well, there are other things out there besides what tried to kill her!" Sam objected.

"You can't protect her from everything! Listen to me, I know there's things out there and I know you're scared and worried for her and you boys are here now, great, but we all know it's not for long. You're still looking for your daddy and even if you weren't, Dean, you'd be itching to get on the damn road before long and Sam, you'd go with him no matter what. So what then? Will you take her with you?"

Silence followed his question. Both boys knew he was right, they would leave, that was guaranteed. They would have to leave their baby sister behind, it would be the right thing to do. They could only take comfort in the fact that they were leaving her with someone they trusted, someone capable of keeping her safe. Until they found their dad.

Deflated they entered the house without another word. Sam never got to the box and even forgot to ask Bobby how far he had gone with it. Emily was already up in her room by the time they went in. She did not come back downstairs.

* * *

Emily kept finding ways of staying away from her brothers and it was driving Sam mad. He ignored it as long as he could but when it got too much for him, he decided a discussion was necessary with the person he personally considered the actual patriarch of the Winchester family. Not his father. That man he loved, but hadn't looked up to in a long time. Sam went to his brother.

He found Dean cleaning his guns in Bobby's basement armory. Gosh his brother needed new hobbies! Sam had to find out what had happened between Dean and Emily during the ride from the hospital. He sat down on a bench facing his brother and watched him, not knowing how to start.

"What?" Dean prompted him, waving an unloaded gun around. If their father were here, he would have had some choice words to say about that action!

"Dean, what did you do to Emily on the drive over from the hospital?"

"What? What do you mean? I didn't do anything!"

"Then you must have said something! Since we got here, Emily has been avoiding us like we're dentists or something."

"And you automatically think it's my fault. Nice, Sam! What else are you going to blame me for, uh? World War I? II? The plague?"

Sam ran his hands through his hair. "I'm sorry, Dean, it's just that when we left the hospital, the two of you were like BFFs! And she thought I was a ninja. Now, on the rare occasion she can't get out of our way fast enough, she speaks to us in this fake ass cheery voice."

"First of all, BFFs? Ninja? Dude, what are you? A six year old girl? Wait! Don't answer that! Second, Emily is an actual giiiiirl and girls do unexplainable, erratic shit all the time, it's in their wiring."

"Dean!"

"Sam, it's nothing, let it go. It's the cranky time of the cycle, okay?"

"It's not nothing, it's been four days, Dean! And I cant let it go! Her behaviour is driving me nuts, I can't even tackle the stupid box because my brain is stuck in figuring-Emily-out mode! Besides if it was that time, there would be other signs, hot water bottles, binge chocolate eating, stuff like that!"

"How the hell do you know that? You're really a girl!" Dean's voice was credulous as he looked at his brother out of huge shocked eyes.

"I lived with a girl for a little over a year, Dean!"

Dean reflected upon that for a moment before speaking. "Gosh Sam, what can I say? I didn't do anything to her and if you think something is wrong with her, why don't you go talk to her?"

"Have you even been listening to me? How can I talk to her? She won't stay in our presence longer than it takes to say a weird high pitched hi! I don't want to corner her, she might freak out like she did in the hospital that first time!"

Dean was at a loss so he chose to ignore his sibling. After a minute of silence, Sam huffed and walked away.

Dean knew exactly what Sam was talking about. He was not a fool. He had noticed Emily's detachment immediately. Day one, it wasn't so obvious because of the furniture moving and her not being allowed to take part. On day two, she had gone off with Bobby to Bismarck and on returning had disappeared to her room. On day three he'd decided to do an oil change and minor service on the Impala and he'd asked Emily if she wanted to join him. She had expressed a wish to look under it's hood during the drive from the hospital so he figured she would jump at the offer. She had declined, barely looking up from the book she was reading. He'd been disappointed but he'd shrugged it off. She was a girl and girls were practically bipolar!

She'd iced Sam as well. Day five, they'd walked into the den where she was hiding out, at least that's what Dean thought she was doing. Sam had seen her read something dorky on one of her computers… Dean had no idea what, he wasn't a geek! Anyway, Sam had began to read over her shoulder and she had sweetly offered to send the file to his laptop. Sam had been a little hurt, Dean had seen that, but he had thought his brother was being dramatic. After all, many people hated over shoulder readers.

Before making a hasty conclusion, Dean had decided to observe her a little longer and over the last two days, he had noticed how quickly she vacated a room when he or Sam entered it, and how she practically stuck to Bobby; going with him to run mundane errands that should have, by all means, bored her to tears. After that, he hadn't need any more signs to prove that their sister wanted nothing to do with them but there were still plenty.

He thought back to the car ride from the hospital and tried to pinpoint what it was he could have said that might have led to this reaction, may be he had hurt her feelings without meaning to. She didn't strike him as the petty type, but with people, you never knew. He failed to find the trigger. They had discussed cars, and then she'd asked about hunting, he'd told her about their nomadic lives, how they drove around the country hunting evil supernatural things, how they had no roots and were never in a place long enough to even make friends. He'd then asked about her life. She'd talked generically about life in suburbia, never really giving anything away. Then they'd gone quiet and after a while she'd fallen asleep. No, whatever had caused her to withdraw was not his fault.

* * *

A few hours later, Emily was in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew when Sam wandered in and grabbed two beers from the fridge.

"Hey, Dean and I are going to watch Spinal Tap, wanna join?" he asked. He would keep trying. He wasn't called stubborn by everyone for nothing! He personally called it focused determination.

Bobby walked in from outside to hear the offer and he waited with bated breath for Emily's answer, hoping today would be the day she wouldn't decline the olive branch being offered. He was disappointed.

"No thanks, I'm going to read for a while!" she said with a cheery smile and a wave.

Sam frowned, then shrugged as if to say suit yourself and went out to the den.

Emily saw Bobby frown as well. She sighed, now that she had said she was going to read, she had to commit to the excuse. She went to the study and picked a random book all the while feeling Bobby's eyes burning a hole in her back. She really would have loved to watch that stupid movie but she remembered her vow to herself. She returned to the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee and went out the door to sit on the steps outside. Rumsfeld wandered over and placed his head in her lap. She absently scratched behind his ears. A few minutes later Bobby sat down next to her with a beer. They sat in silence for a while then Bobby took a deep steadying breath and spoke.

"You know, I don't get it, how can you be mad at them and not at me. I lied to you just as much as they did."

"Mad at….wait, you think I'm mad at Sam and Dean?" Emily was shocked.

"You're not?" Bobby was just as surprised.

"No! Well, at first I was hurt; I thought they hadn't wanted me as a sister. But the day I left the hospital, when you and Dean had gone to get my car, Sam explained why they had decided to misinform to me. He said they did it to keep me safe, to keep me away from the life of a hunter. I can't fault them on that. They were just being big brothers. I know their decision was noble and believe it or not, I respect them for it and I know it was not easy for them to make it. I know it hurt them, I could see it in their eyes."

"So what's with the weirdness now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Emily, you're practically my shadow! And while that's flattering, I'm fully aware that the only time you're not shadowing me is when I'm with one or both of your brothers. The three of you have been here eight days already and I haven't seen you talk to either boy besides those ridiculously cheery but meaningless greetings of yours. You're the most curious person I know and there are probably only a handful of people as fascinating as those knucklehead brothers of yours. You're missing out on their company and they certainly are missing out on yours. You and Dean should have fought about music choices by now, you should have discussed your beloved cars and other classics and bored Sam to death. Speaking of which, you and Sam should be having academic debates and using big fancy words that the rest of us don't understand!"

Emily snorted a laugh at this.

"What I'm trying to get at in my own non fancy words way is, you and your brothers should be bonding. And I know they are trying, Sam especially. Why aren't you?"

Emily sighed, "You wouldn't understand!"

Bobby rolled his eyes and kept himself from huffing with supreme difficulty. What is it with Winchesters and teenagers and thinking no one but them would understand? Did they think the rest of the world's population was a bunch of idiots?

"Try me," he said.

"I'm trying to protect them and myself too!" she said in a low sad voice.

"Uh?" Bobby was confounded! Had he missed a tornado warning? Because it sure seemed like he was in Oz!

Emily was quiet as she thought about how to explain.

"I was an only child raised by two doting parents. Even though I begged for a sibling and my parents tried to adopt another child, it never happened. I didn't even have cousins as my dad was an only child and my mom fell out with her family. My dad grew up detached from parents who while giving him every material thing withheld the love he needed. My mom grew up with a physically and verbally abusive father. So, both approached parenthood from completely opposite ends from their own parents. The result was that growing up, the one thing I was completely secure in was my parents' love, unashamedly, unreservedly shown with hugs, kisses, pats, dreaded hair tousles and on occasion those embarrassing fist bumps. I saw it in the pride they had in my achievements however small, the way their faces lit up when they saw me, and the way they made space for me whether on a couch or in a conversation whenever it was just the three of us. It was in the way they accommodated and supported my dreams."

She paused and took a deep steadying breath, then continued, "So, because of the way I was raised, my default love setting is stuck at deep and fierce! It's kind of an only child thing! Contrary to common belief, we attach easily and intensely and can be fiercely loyal!" she laughed self-deprecatingly before continuing. "When my parents died, I learnt that love is dangerous. It's true, you know, you always hurt the people you love. So I keep my distance. It worked with you until you walked into that diner and kept coming back. Now you're a part of my life and I already love you so much, it scares me. You have no idea how much. So I cannot and will not let myself get attached to Sam and Dean. Besides, they are going to leave. They have no roots. Dean said so himself."

Emily's voice hitched as she finished her long winded explanation and she hugged Rumsfeld and discreetly wiped away a tear. Bobby pretended not to notice, after all, he was feeling a little weepy himself. Damn this kid.

He felt his heart melt. He knew for a fact that Emily loved him, he would have to be a fool not to know what the quick, shy occasional hugs and kisses on the cheek meant but to hear her say it was just … well precious, because he had realised that despite how chatty Emily was sometimes, she was a little reserved about verbally sharing her feelings.

"I love you too, kid!" he managed to say past the lump in his throat.

She looked up at him and smiled. Her eyes filled with joy and relief, like she had doubted he'd feel the same way about her, but there was something else too. There was fear in those eyes, not fear of him, but for him. "What the hell?" he thought.

"You said you wanted to protect them too. What'd you mean?"

Another sigh preceded her words, "You know, I know what kind of guys, Sam and Dean are; they're warriors, trained to get rid of threats, determined to protect the weak, and fiercely protective of those they love. Unfortunately, they also carry the world on their shoulders, blame themselves for everyone they fail to get to in time, and for everything that goes wrong even when it's not their fault. I'll not add to their burden. I don't want them to be out there worrying about me and getting sloppy. I figure if they don't like me very much, that won't be a problem!"

Bobby was stunned into silence. For a smart girl, she sure had the stupidest, most outrageous logic, and yet, it made perfect sense to her and to Bobby. It was typical convoluted Winchester logic! Evidently, John's kids no matter who had raised them had the same general values; protect others using whatever means possible or available. In Emily's case that meant keeping herself detached from her brothers. God, what was he going to do with these kids?


	16. Chapter 16

In the meantime, Sam had taken the beers to the den and sat down.

"Hey, where's the grab?" Dean complained.

"Dude I don't know what you've been smoking if you think I'm going to back to the kitchen to warm anything for you!"

"Bitch!" Dean smiled as he got up.

"Jerk!" Sam sat back with his beer in contentment.

Dean had no intention of eavesdropping but hearing Emily say you think I'm mad at Sam and Dean, in that indignant, shocked voice, had frozen him in place.

When Bobby talked about Sam and Emily using fancy words, Dean almost laughed in affirmation. He settled for a snicker behind his hand.

"Dean?" Sam walked in to look for his brother just as Emily said she was acting the way she was because she was trying to protect herself and them.

Dean shushed him.

With a quick glare, and a whispered, "This is so wrong!" Sam fell quiet and eavesdropped along with his brother.

They kept glancing at each other as they listened. Picturing Emily's childhood and her life which had been ripped apart twice. First by her parents death and then by the garage incidence. They both related to her story, understood the shock of loss; one minute you had this person you loved and who loved you back unconditionally, a person who was a constant in your life, a person you expected to always be there but you blinked and they were gone. They understood the grief and the depression and the survivor's guilt. Most of all, they related to the knee jerk reaction of detachment; the disengaging from others because you felt they didn't understand or the dread of attaching to others for fear they would be taken away too.

Dean had done it when his mother died, he had withdrawn into himself, disengaged from his father and clung to Sam because he was his gift from his mother. Of course he had reconnected with his father, but it could never be the same. He had not built many other deep relationships, could count on one hand the people he had let in, Bobby, possibly Jim and definitely Cassie whose betrayal had had the same effect on him as his mother's death had. It had reinforced his fear of human relationships.

When Jessica had died, Sam had left all his friends behind with barely an explanation. He had not talked to them for months and had only recently began to read e-mails from them. He had clung to the only constant in his life, Dean. He talked about finding dad and getting revenge, but really, he was on the road with his brother because he wanted to be with his brother. Revenge for Jessica was a secondary mission.

Both boys were drawn from their musings when Bobby asked Emily a question they would have never remembered or thought to ask. What she meant by protecting them. Her answer knocked them sideways!

They returned to the den. A despondent silence filled the room.

"I did this! I turned her into this aloof cold person," Dean said softly staring at his beer morosely.

"No, you didn't. She's not aloof, she's still the same highly spirited girl we had a glimpse of at the hospital, only not to us. And it's not your fault so much as it's her misunderstanding of something you said."

"Then I shouldn't have said it."

"Yes, you should and it's good you did. She needs to know the facts, with no sugarcoating. She needed to know our life is nomadic. You could not have predicted how she would react, that she would armor plate her heart. But we can fix this."

"Really? How? Besides should we? This distance she's put between herself and us could be for the best."

"No, it isn't. Before we met up, that was possible. We could have gone on pretending she did not exist and she would have gone on not knowing about us. But the minute we showed up in her life, that gig was over. It's delusional to think that us pretending or her pretending will do any good, that it'll keep her or us safe. And even if it does, what's the point in keeping her safe from physical harm while emotionally damaging her so she's just a shell of a human being. What would we have achieved? Think how much dad's absence is killing us now. He probably has a good logical reason, probably along the same lines of keeping us safe, but it still hurts like hell that he's not here now and was not there as we grew. And me and you, we were lucky we had each other, we saved each other just by being in each other's life. We can't desert Emily now, we're all she has, besides Bobby that is. We're family, Dean, and family is one of the few good things we have in this messed up world. We can't lose that. We have to bridge this rift she's creating."

At this very moment Dean could see just how good a lawyer his brother would have been. He was so proud of him. And he knew the kid was right. If he hadn't had Sammy to live for, he probably wouldn't have made it into adulthood. Life would not have had the same meaning for him. He was glad to know Sam felt the same way about him. He now understood that never having been in Emily's life was not the same thing as withdrawing from it. One was a merciful act, the other was plain cruel. However, being there for her was all good and noble but it was not possible.

"Sam, we are not going to stay here forever, we have things to do. We can't take Emily with us!"

"Dean, we don't have to take her with us to be in her life." Sam said gently then he went ahead to explain. "When I was at Stanford, I was a wreck, it was more than homesickness, cos that goes away after a while, after you make friends and get used to the life. No, this was a chronic ache. I learnt to function without you and dad, I went to my classes, went drinking with my friends, laughed and joked around but I was a bit hollow inside, I wasn't whole. I always felt like something was missing. And it was you guys. Not so much your physical presence which no offence, would probably have embarrassed me to death, but the certainty and safety of knowing that you were there no matter what, that I had family. Knowing I could call you guys and talk about anything without feeling judged, knowing I had the option of coming home during school breaks, knowing you would call me if you needed help on a hunt or just wanted to talk, would have made Stanford a great experience, not an undertaking to endure. So no, we don't need to be physically in Emily's life for us to be family. For Emily to know we're there for her despite the physical distance, is enough."

It had occurred to Dean that Sam's going to Stanford had not been abandonment as much as it was a quest for him to find himself. To figure out where he fitted in the world. Sam was different from him and John. He had needed Stanford and he had needed his family's support and he had not got it.

"I'm sorry Sam," he said softly.

Sam knew what Dean was talking about. "I'm sorry too Dean. I should have explained better. Maybe things wouldn't have gone down the way they did."

Both knew John would have reacted the same way no matter what Sam had said.

"You tried. I should have supported you instead of staying quiet when dad said those awful things to you!"

"I should have understood your silence."

There was a short embarrassed silence. Both boys feeling a little girly.

"Okay, so we have a sister to assure. You're the girl, how do we do it?"

* * *

"You want to talk to her, you have to force the issue. You're her big brothers, act like it." Bobby told the boys when they asked him for help late in the evening after Emily had gone to her room. The two had failed to come up with a plan.

"The last time we used force, she freaked out!" Dean informed him.

"When was this?" Bobby was suspicious.

"At the hospital. She was beginning to question our motive for being in her room so she picked up the call button. Mr. Bedside Manners over here rushed over and snatched it out of her hands! She hyperventilated so bad I thought she was going to have a heart attack!" Sam reported.

Dean glared at him. "Tattletale!" he mouthed.

"You used force on a bed ridden traumatised girl? Idjit!" Bobby smacked Dean upside the head. The damn fool had not told him why Emily had hyperventilated.

Dean looked sheepish as he rubbed the spot, "I didn't think she'd react like that!"

"Damn straight you didn't think! Emily was still shaken from the attack, the memory still raw. Imagine the helplessness she felt when that thing took over her own body and used it! Turned it against her! That feeling of vulnerability and the terror of facing the unknown shook her way more than the physical pain. After such a thing happening, she needed to have total control of herself, her environment and her actions and you snatching that call button took away that control so she freaked out. But now, it's different, she's different. She has healed physically and emotionally. And she's equipped with knowledge and with it power; not only does she now know that what's out there, is real and she's not insane, she is also aware that it can be destroyed. So now she can give an inch if need be. She won't feel threatened if you go a little authoritative on her. True she won't like it, but she won't break down, in fact she just might challenge you!"

"You think so?" Dean was willing to take any vindication.

"I believe so. If you try that snatching stunt again now, I'm sure you'd get a resounding slap and a telling down for your trouble! She's a Winchester after all, she's got a back bone of steel and an act-now-think-later brain!"

"Hey!" Sam objected at the description which in retrospect he realised was true. Dean and his dad were real masters of half baked plans but he too, with his logical brain, did a lot of things without thinking them through beforehand and then used sheer force of will to remedy the result or live with it. Case in point was his leaving for Stanford. He had missed his brother and surprisingly his father but had refused to be the first to crack. it had led to three years of a cold war.

Dean was concerned about something else entirely, "What? You just told us to use force! I don't want to get smacked by a girl!"

Bobby looked at him like he was the village idiot. "I said to force the issue, not use force. Be authoritative, channel your daddy if you want! For example, if she starts to leave the room, don't grab her hand, instead ask her not to leave in that commanding officer voice your father perfected."

"Oh!" Dean said in understanding.

Bobby shook his head and walked away muttering under his breath about damn fools and idjits and Winchesters and grey hair.

* * *

Bobby left them to it. He left the house in the morning, the next day, adamantly refusing to take Emily with him.

The boys knew she was in the study. That was her usual hiding place. Sam went in first. Dean followed a few paces behind. Emily greeted them in that annoying fake happy voice that made Dean grit his teeth, then she stood up to leave. Dean covered the door.

"Listen up, Ice Maiden, we need to talk. It won't take long but I suggest you sit down so we can talk like the adults some of us claim to be!" The sentence was flippant but the voice brooked no argument. Dad would be so proud.

Both Sam and Emily's lips quirked. Clearly his siblings were amused! Not the reaction he was hoping for but he'd take it.

Emily sat and crossed her arms looking straight ahead. Dean moved away from the door when he was sure she was not going to bolt.

He sat next to Sam across from her. "Okay, this is it," he thought to himself.

She looked up at them, beautifully curved out of unyielding stone but, there was a new layer of respect in those eyes. Well, Dean had to give her due respect for grit.

"We heard your conversation with Bobby yesterday," he began.

"What?" she spluttered indignantly.

Sam cut in before she could get wind in her sails. "It wasn't intentional, but we're not sorry we did. That conversation explained some things to us. We are aware you think we're going to abandon you. I'm sorry you believe that, and I can't blame you, considering the first decision we made when we found out about you was to lie to you and technically run away from you. Now you're basically doing the same thing. We came to realise how bad an idea it was and we hope you will too because distancing ourselves from those we love does not really protect them or us."

"Those we love?" Emily looked at her brothers with unbridled hope.

That was when both boys really understood. Yes, she was still trying to protect them, but Emily was no longer protecting her heart. It was too late for that, she had already let them in, simply because they were family. No, she was fortifying it for the rejection she knew was coming. She was in effect steeling herself.

Dean's voice was surprisingly gentle when he spoke. "Yes, those we love. Listen Emily, you're our sister, it doesn't matter what you do or how you behave, nothing will change that. You could be the most obnoxious person on earth and you'd still be our sister. The only thing we can tell you is that we're never going to abandon you. I won't lie to you, sooner than later, we'll be gone from here and we won't take you with us because it's not feasible, but despite that, we'll still be your brothers, we'll be there for you when you need us. We just needed you to know that. Now, how you interact with us is however entirely up to you."

Silence filled the room.

After a while Dean began to fidget. He didn't do stillness or patience unless he was on a stakeout. Sam nudged him with his knee. He turned and glared at his brother.

"Quit nudging me!"

"Then stop moving about! You're like a tick!"

Emily laughed.

And just like that, the ice was broken.

Three hours later, Bobby found them in the kitchen laughing over ridiculous embellished stories from their childhoods.

"About time!" he thought.


	17. Chapter 17

Despite having been living in the same house with them for days, Emily was still a major revelation to her brothers. They were convinced that she was the most girly girl they had ever seen but were surprised to find that was mostly on the surface.

She only wore jeans when she absolutely had to and even then she tried to pair them with a super girly top. The girl loved her dresses and tights. She had them in every conceivable colour. Not to mention the belts and ear studs and bracelets and brooches. Yet she only wore sturdy and rather rugged flat biker boots. She had five pairs in black, brown and army green which they soon discovered was her favourite colour. The only other foot wear she owned were a pair of purple trainers and a worn, frayed pair of flip flops she wore around the house and kicked off whenever she had a chance.

Her finger nails and toes which though kept functionally short were always painted, green or burgundy and on one occasion peach. Yet she wore no makeup.

She mostly wore her curly hair loose and with a side part, on occasion placing alice bands or decorative clips or bows in it and sometimes braiding it. Yet she could quickly and carelessly throw it into a ponytail and get into the inspection pit not caring if it got dirty.

Despite her delicate looks and feminine clothes, she was wild and unrestrained and remarkably resilient. Once they'd watched her with fascination as she played like a little kid with Rumsfeld and had been concerned when the big dog had become boisterous. She had seemed to enjoy the rough play even more, laughing raucously like a mental hyena.

She spoke with a soft, melodic voice, yet she tended to express her emotions loudly, her loud peals of laughter could probably be heard for miles, though when the setting called for restraint, she would cover her mouth and try to suppress her mirth. She snorted in disbelief and they had actually heard her whoop for joy on more than one occasion, and everyone knew she hollered her displeasure.

She was surprisingly adventurous and refused to back down from a challenge. Dean being a typical big brother had once added extra chili to Bobby's already hellish hot chili and dared her to eat it. She had eaten it all, with tears raining down her cheeks. She had drank nearly a full pitcher of water after. When Sam had found out why she was drinking water like desert sand, he had disapproved and told Dean off for his prank and Emily for her stupid stubbornness. Later Bobby had laughed and said she was definitely a Winchester. Bullheaded and foolhardy.

She took knocks in her stride and scrapes were treated effectively and non fussily with no hysterics. One time when she and Dean were tinkering with one of the cars, she had cut her finger. Dean had been concerned but she had cleaned and placed a bandaid on the admittedly small cut and carried on despite Dean's fussing! He hoped she wasn't as nonchalant about serious injuries or else he would kill her himself.

When she had been trying to avoid them, she had kept to the house, but now, she was practically always outside. She loved the outdoors. If she wasn't there playing with Rumsfeld, she was leaning against a tree she had adopted, with her guitar or notebook or one of Bobby's books. Once she had even carried her laptop out there. Sometimes, she'd mess about in what she called her garden out back, or she'd help Bobby and Dean with a car, or she simply hang out, chatting with her brothers or Bobby. Sometimes she was content just sitting under her tree soaking in the sun. Her love for the outdoors was so great, they figured she would camp out if she could. Rather her than them, they hated camping!

However, the biggest revelation was how unreservedly affectionate she was. They supposed they should have expected it. After all, she had admitted she had been raised by very demonstrative parents.

After the talk, she and them had not magically become best friends, but she stopped actively avoiding them and began to act normal when she found herself in their company. Then with time she had began to openly seek out their company, spending hours with them. The kisses on the cheek were still reserved for Bobby, and the hugs for Rumsfeld but she found ways of demonstrating her fondness for her intimacy-shy brothers.

Their favourite proof was the way her face positively lit up when she saw one of them. It was humbling and moving for them to see love shown openly like that.

Coming in a very close second was the way she subconsciously touched them. She unintentionally leaned into them if she sat or even stood next to them. Her idea of personal space was as small as theirs, and in close quarters, like the inspection pit, she did not go out of her way to avoid physical contact, instead she brushed past them without nervousness or apologies. She bumped them and shoved them, and moved with and around them with an ease and familiarity that seemed to have always been there. Sam loved the fact that she was so tactile since he was tactile too. Dean pretended to hate it, calling the two of them so touchy-feely, but Sam knew he liked it too and responded to it.

They had both originally held back on their kind of affection displays because they did not know how she would take it. They had never had a sister after all; they had no idea how to treat a girl who wasn't a date, a potential date or a fleeting acquaintance. However one day she was being a punk according to Dean so he held her in a headlock and gave her a noogie. She had protested loudly but halfheartedly and between gasps of laughter. The boys had then became more physically expressive towards her, tickling, shoulder bumps, affectionate back pats, only stopping short of hugs and kisses of course! They even began to mercilessly tease and prank her and she gave back as good as she got.

The last proof of her fondness for them was how she simply needed to be with them no matter what she or they were doing. She did not need the excuse of participation in an activity to be in their company. She could just as contentedly sit in silence reading or working on her computer as they talked about lore and scanned for cases in the newspapers. She sat out on the back steps every evening with Sam and watched the sunset. Sometimes they talked, but most times they sat in silence, satisfied with each other's company. Sometimes Dean joined them and said outrageous things to make them laugh. He loved hearing the combined sound of the joyous crow of Emily's laugh and the hearty cackle of Sam's. Gosh his siblings had the weirdest, funniest and most contagious laughs.

* * *

The boys were just as a revelation to Emily as she was to them. Being an only child, the things she knew about siblings were those she had heard consistently from her friends. Siblings were great but you spent most of your time wishing you didn't have any. Younger siblings followed you everywhere, embarrassed you in front of your friends and made your parents yell at you all the time. They only wanted to play with your things and not theirs, and you were obliged to look after them no matter how big they got.

Older siblings were cool, but they ignored you because apparently, no matter what you did, you were embarrassing, they did not want to share with you because you broke things and they were bossy because they were older than you and knew more than you and no matter how big you got, they would always be older than you so they lorded it over you.

Well, so far, as a younger sibling, Emily did follow her brothers everywhere, but they did not mind, did not seem embarrassed by her, in fact more often than not, they asked her along. They did not mind sharing their stuff with her and she certainly didn't mind sharing hers with them. They shared a bathroom and nearly everything in it. They used her shampoo and soap even though they constantly complained about its fruity, girly smell. One time Dean had exited the bathroom wearing her purple bathrobe because he had forgotten to carry his towel inside with him. She and Sam had teased him about it, but he had just laughed along. Once too, Emily had used Sam's razor. She had run out of wax strips and so borrowed his razor. He jokingly threatened to throw it away because she had tainted it, but he didn't and continued using it. When she got a chance to go to the shops and buy more strips, she had also bought the boys new razors.

As older siblings, the boys were indeed cool. However, that probably had less to do with their older sibling status and more to do with their innate nature. As for them worrying about her breaking things, that was not true. Sure, they kept their weapons away from her because they were overprotective, but everything else was open season. She could help Dean with the impala and tinker with Sam's computer. She was sure if they had more material things, she would be welcome to them, but they didn't.

She liked that they were content with what they had. They had made peace with their life a long time ago, even Sam who had been deemed discontent by his father and brother had not been discontent about the lack of material things, but about the lack of safety. Emily loved this simplicity about them.

The part about older siblings being bossy was so true. Gosh, her brothers were bossy, Dean especially, but not in an overbearing way, they were more protective than anything; they believed they knew what was best for her, having lived longer, and been raised the way they had. Well, she had been raised by parents who despite being just as protective were laid back and reasonable in their approach, so even though she acknowledged, respected and even liked Sam and Dean's protectiveness, she baulked at their methods. If they demanded that she didn't do something, she would go out of her way to do it even if she had not had intentions of doing it in the first place. Sam learnt quickly that requests worked better than demands with her. Dean was still learning, slowly and reluctantly. As the eldest, she supposed it was harder for him to let go.

However, despite their overprotectiveness, Emily could not have asked for better men as her brothers. They were goodhearted, kind and courteous, and despite the things they had witnessed, the things they had done, they were still sensitive and emphatic. They were strong and yet gentle. They were efficient and disciplined and yet easy-going and wickedly funny. They ran credit card scams, but were still honorable. In different, individual ways, they were both strong-willed but fair.

Best of all, they were energetic! Even Sam was downright boisterous, though Dean didn't think so. Of course Dean would disagree because his own energy levels were unbelievable. He'd easily score fifty on a one to ten energy scale. He was like a hybrid of a sugar high three year old and a puppy! He never stopped moving, ever! He said he stayed still during stakeouts, but she'd never been on one so she said she'd believe him if she ever saw it. Emily was delighted to have siblings but she was positively ecstatic to have siblings who could keep up with her.

She knew they loved her with everything they had and would do anything for her, and she was very secure in this knowledge, so it was without any jealousy that she accepted the fact that the bond between them was inimitable. Besides, that bond was easily her most favourite thing about her brothers.

She revered the love and loyalty they had for each other. They fought and bickered and snarked at each other all the time but nothing could come between them because they truly loved, respected and cared for each other. There was no doubt in her mind that those two would willingly die for each other. They just didn't communicate like normal people, a fact she absolutely loved. They communicated, not so much with conventional words, or gestures, but with their own unique language and gestures, which she was beginning to learn. The first time she had heard them call each other Bitch and Jerk, she had nearly swallowed her tongue, but the looks they were giving each other as they said the words were what explained the meaning of the words to her. The words were their version of words of endearment. She enjoyed their quirkiness, their inability to fit in any box, their nonconformity. They were like no one she had ever met.

The boys had their differences of course.

Dean called Sam broody, but that was because Sam was introspective, he retreated into his head to examine, to think and to analyse everything … problems, situations, even things said or done to him. Dean on the other hand reacted before or as he thought. He literally thought out loud; he sounded out possible solutions to problems and dismissed or accepted them just as audibly. He did not dwell on a situation or problem, he made things up as he went which served him well in hunting, but not so well in normal social situations. If you said something to Dean that he didn't like, you got a quick snarky reply if you were lucky, or a beat down if you were not.

Sam could be chatty, but he was just as comfortable with silence, in fact, there were times he absolutely craved silence and stillness. Of course he rarely got it with Dean around, so he had learnt to relegate Dean's sounds to background sound. This made him rather unreachable when he was concentrating on a task. Dean on the other hand hated silence and stillness. He filled in even the smallest silences in any way possible. He'd either mouth off quips, make obnoxious sounds with his mouth, or tap a tattoo on any available surface, tables, other people's shoulders or heads, his knee and even the Impala's steering wheel.

Surprisingly, despite being introspective, Sam was expressive and more sociable, while Dean who couldn't stand silence, kept most people at arm's length and locked his feelings behind a wall of defenses, ranging from sarcasm to wit. Sam kept his thoughts to himself until he was sure, but shared his feelings easily. Dean shared his thoughts the second he thought them, but kept his feelings bottled up. Her brothers like Bobby had said were two of the most interesting people she had ever met.

Emily wouldn't have changed either of them. Or exchanged them for anyone else.


	18. Chapter 18

The undercurrent of worry that had filled the yard had dissipated with time. The boys and Bobby had been concerned that any person, or any so inclined supernatural being using basic, completely human means could find Emily very easily. For starters, while she had not left a big paper trail having been shrewd enough to use cash most times, she had used her card enough times from San Francisco to Brandon to be tracked that way. Heck, she had used it to rent the apartment in Brandon. Second, she had been admitted into Sanford Hospital under her name, had even had legitimate insurance cover, and Bobby had used his name when he signed her out, and even though his yard was not listed, it was still well known. However, when nothing and nobody turned up at the yard over the weeks, they had realised that the thing after her was only capable of tracking her using supernatural means and since the ring covered that, they were okay, at least for now.

Sam had been meaning to get back to the box for a while now but couldn't. The junkyard had been so relaxed lately, it was almost normal apple pie life, well, if you ignored the demon traps, the panic room, the gazillion books on everything but normal, and the fact that everyone aside from Emily was always packing heat or armed in one way or other. Even now, he was staring at the box but couldn't bring himself to open it. He was idly wondering where his extremely energetic siblings were when he heard them having the mother of fights.

* * *

They had been at Bobby's just over three weeks when Dean walked into the basement armoury, where Bobby was adding a newly acquired grenade launcher, to hear Emily say, "Hey, Bobby, I was wondering if you could teach me how to hunt. My wounds are all healed up so there shouldn't be any trouble." The stitches had been removed two days prior.

"What? That is out of the question?" Dean spluttered in outrage.

"Excuse me?" Emily said mildly but there was a fire growing in her eyes. She turned to look at him.

"You heard me!" Dean growled.

"I thought I heard you say learning to hunt is out of the question."

"Good to know your hearing is better than your reasoning!"

Emily stood right in Dean's face. "I wasn't even asking you! What is your problem? Learning how to look after myself in this new crappy reality that is now my life can only be a good thing. If you have a problem with my reasoning, then it's yours that needs to be questioned!" she said a little more loudly than she had before.

"You're a girl!" Okay that was stupid, and that's not what he meant, but that's what had come out.

"So? Is hunting a boys' only club or something? Well, guess what, so was the army a bazillion years ago!" the fire had exploded.

Dean was just as mad as Emily now. "This is not about me. Okay? This is about you! I care about you, God knows why because you're one hell of an annoying little punk! I will not let you join this life. This is not the life I want for my sister. I didn't even want this for Sam!"

"And yet you went and got him from his normal life! And I don't know whether you noticed, but I am already in this life. The minute your father walked into my mother's life, I was in this life. So, whether you'll let me join or not is not up for debate!"

"My father did not walk into your mother's life. He was led to her by something we don't know. You ... you think this life is some sort of glamourous adventure? Something to spice up your apple pie life? I hate to break it to you, but it isn't. This is real! There are things out there that will rip you apart for kicks!"

"Exactly! That is why I have to learn how to survive in this life. You guys made it abundantly clear that you won't always be here. I need to be able to look after myself. Besides, I do know how to defend myself in the apple pie life as you so eloquently call it, and I'm sure it won't take too much to get me up to speed with the hunting life. If you say you care about me, you shouldn't have a problem with me being able to defend myself in the supernatural world as well!"

"Take a good look at yourself Emily. How can you think you can face the things out there? In dresses and tights and bows in your hair?" he scoffed.

She was so young and God, she looked fragile, breakable. He knew she was stronger than she looked, stronger than many people he knew, but still, he could not get past the image she projected. He was so scared something would happen to her that he felt close to tears. His worry and fear as usual presented as anger and scorn.

"Whoa, whoa! What?" the outrage was now off the scales. "These are just clothes, clothes I can take off and pack away. They have no bearing on what I can do and can't do. If you want me to wear a black leather catsuit and stiletto heels, and ride a Ducati, I will! I can even get a cape if that's what it takes!"

"I didn…."

"Can it!" Bobby had to yell to be heard.

Dean and Emily turned as one to look at him, stunned looks on their faces. They were standing so close to each other that when they turned to face him, their shoulders touched.

"Listen to me knuckleheads! Dean, Emily has a point…"

"Bobby…" Dean began.

"I said can it! Now, all she's asking is to be taught how to protect herself, she's not asking to go on hunts or anything!"

"Bobby…" Emily tried.

"No! You are not going on hunts, and that is final! We'll teach you so you know what to do if trouble comes your way but you're not going to go looking for it. Is that clear?"

"But what's the poi…"

"No buts. Is that clear?"

Emily nodded reluctantly. Might as well win the battle. There would be time for the war.

"Now Dean, if you or your brother are not up to the task, I will do it myself. After all, I taught your daddy most of what he knows."

Silence followed that announcement and it was in this silence that Sam walked into the room.

Both Dean and Emily were standing there glaring at Bobby with identical scowls on their faces and their arms crossed in front of their chests. Both were still breathing erratically.

Sam had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. However, his I'm-dying-not-to-laugh look was not lost on his siblings, and with near identical huffs of annoyance, they both stalked out.

Sam laughed for a whole minute, and even had tears running down his face.

"For some reason, I thought Emily would have her first real shouting match with you, what with both of you having John's temper!" Bobby chuckled.

"Yeah?" Sam had never thought about his temper being like John's but now he thought about it, he realised Bobby was right. Only difference was Sam's fuse was much longer than his fathers. So was Emily's, thank God. After a moment he added thoughtfully, "You know what? I wouldn't have fought her on this. She has a point you know. But I also understand where Dean is coming from."

"So you heard it all?"

"People in California heard it all!" Sam chuckled. "Dean! Wow! Don't think I've heard him yell like that, ever! Like you said, it was always between dad and me. As for Emily, looks really are deceiving, I still can't believe someone that tiny, that dainty can project like that!"

Bobby chuckled, in all fairness, Emily was not tiny, and was certainly not dainty, but in Sam's world, Dean's too, she might as well be a porcelain doll. However, he knew what Sam meant, "I thought everyone by now had learnt that beneath that sweet, delicate shell lies a pigheaded kid with a steel core!"

After a lengthy pause Sam said, "You made the right call Bobby."

"I hope so."

"And Dean will come around."

* * *

They waited for Dean to come around but when the lessons began a week later, he was yet to reconcile himself with the plan. Emily had began to despair that Bobby had changed his mind about teaching her when he told her he was ready. In preparation for the lesson, she wore a pair of sweat pants and over her long sleeved tee, a tie and dye T-shirt that nearly killed Sam and Dean with laughter. She consequently got the biggest disappointment of her life when it turned out to be a lecture and not a tutorial.

"The biggest part of hunting the supernatural is research. You have to know exactly what you're hunting if you're planning to kill it or in some cases banish it. You don't want to use iron on something only silver will kill or shoot something that needs knifing or staking! That will just make it mad and these things are bad enough when they're not pissed off. So trust me when I say all the fighting skills you have, and I am yet to qualify that, will be useless if you don't have the right weapon. So you'll have to do research and usually lots of it. You might have to go to crime scenes, see if your EMF lights up and look for smells or other things left behind, sulphur, ectoplasm, hex bags and such. If you find witnesses, persuade them to tell you exactly what they saw or heard. Many will lie to you because they're scared and don't want to be committed, so you have to be really convincing to get the truth. You will also have to check out the actual victims...the DBs... see how they died, look for things coroners miss or dismiss. You will have to study the victimology, see what ties the victims together, see if it's targeting a particular class of people, race, gender, build, or even family. In cases of spirits and sometimes gods, this will help determine whose spirit it is or what god it is and what it wants. For spirits, this takes the guess work out of things, you'll be able to salt and burn the right bones, saves you from digging up a million graves. After research, the next step may very well be more research! After learning what it is you're hunting, you may still have to do research to find how to get rid of it. Hunting is not a the most predictable pass time, sometimes you'll find something you haven't hunted before so you'll know jack about it and won't have the right weapon in your arsenal. So you research and look for the weapon or the appropriate method of termination. Speaking of which, when I say weapon, I don't mean just guns and knives. I mean everything you can use in a fight. I mean salt, rosaries, holy water and oil, sigils...you have to learn how to draw these from memory and sometimes at the drop of a hat… so read up on those and on exorcism."

If Emily had not been so zealous about learning about hunting, she would have dropped dead from the boredom. Maybe that was Bobby's intention!

After the lectures, came the focused reading. She had been reading books from Bobby's study since her arrival at the yard but that had been for leisure, now this was part of the training. She didn't mind. She loved books anyway. In the evenings Bobby and sometimes Sam would quiz her. They'd give her signs and clues and ask what creature she thought they were talking about and how to kill it. Sometimes they gave her generic signs that covered about three or four creatures then asked her to use elimination to end up with only one. Dean still disapproved if the glower on his face during the Q and A sessions was anything to go by. He really hated hearing his innocent looking sister say things like stab through the heart or hack the head off, or cut the body into pieces, in an easy, matter-of-fact tone. But a part of him was immensely proud of how quick she caught on, she rarely named the wrong creature not even when Sam tried to confuse her and make her change her mind. She could even recite the Rituale Romanum exorcism from memory after six tries. While it had taken Sam only one try to memorize the thing, five tries was still impressive.

Where Sam was exceptionally good at recalling words, Emily was exceptionally good at recalling sigils and symbols. "I'm good at math and math is basically about patterns. Sigils and symbols are patterns, so it's easy for me to remember them," had been her unaffected explanation.

Dean refused to be intimidated by his brainy siblings. Besides, when it came to real life, he surpassed his siblings in knowledge application!

As far as he was concerned, the only upside to all her reading and the perverse enjoyment she was getting from it, was that maybe that would be as far as the hunting training would go.

He hadn't counted on Emily's determination. It took another five days for Bobby to run out of questions and excuses.

So here she was back in the ridiculous tie and dye tee and sweat pants facing a grinning Sam waiting for instructions.

Dean had adamantly refused to be recruited and Sam had begged to be excused but Bobby could not hear of it.

"If it was just me and Emily, I'd do it. But you two damn idjits are here so I have to use it to my advantage. Your brother won't do it because he disapproves so it's just you left." Bobby had argued as he dragged Sam out of the house to the backyard where Emily was waiting.

"I can't fight a girl!" Sam had argued.

"Why not? You're a girl too!" Dean had snickered. Sam gave him the mother of bitchfaces which just made him snicker louder.

"You're not fighting, you're training. Besides, today I simply want to see what she is capable of. Despite your misgivings we all know she needs the lessons. You have to do this." Bobby ignored Dean.

"I can't hit her,"

"You don't have to. You're just sparring."

"Fine!" and that is how 6'4" 185 pounds of him had ended up here squaring off against his almost 5'9" 147 pounds sister.

Bobby waved for them to start and they circled each other, then Emily jumped in.

* * *

Dean watched perched on the roof of the Impala.

Sam did not want to hurt Emily so he did nothing except sidestep and duck, his movements fluid and precise. Dean was proud of the little brother he had practically raised.

Watching her, it was evident that Emily had had martial arts classes. Probably karate, maybe kung fu, some wishy washy style anyway, but she was really good ... lithe, quick and yes he had to admit, there was power behind her strikes. He and Sam had had no formal fight training. Their father had trained them in the beginning, but over the years, he and Sam had adapted their own unique fighting style called 'Whatever Works!' that was a mixture of many fighting styles and totally suited their lifestyle. After all, fighting monsters was very different from fighting people. Also, the way they fought was tailored to the two of them, catering to each one's strengths while underplaying his weaknesses. That's why Dean had been adrift during those four years Sam had been away. He had had to adjust his style and it had been a bitch changing something that had been fine tuned over years. Besides, he had been used to fighting as part of a unit. Just as he was fully adjusted, he began hunting again with Sam and it was taking both of them a while to get back in the groove they had had before he left. However, each was still an accomplished fighter.

In Dean's opinion, karate was too controlled and too damn polite. It was the fighting equivalent of telling a complete blockhead that he didn't have the brains of a rocket scientist! Fuck that shit! Tell the idiot off so he isn't left with any doubt that he is an idiot! Same with fighting. Give a proper beat down! Also, karate was too predictable. That's how Sam was managing to get out of the way most of the time.

Emily was now sprawled on the ground, felled by her own momentum and Sam's sidestepping. Dean hopped off his perch and walked over. His interest had been piqued to the point where he couldn't remain a bystander.

"You're obviously trained!" he was in time to hear Bobby say as Emily ignored Sam's hand and got up on her own.

"Karate," Emily mumbled. Dean's eyebrows went up. "Second degree, brown belt," she added a little louder than before when saw the questioning looks on their faces.

"That's great. Now that, I can work with!" Bobby said with enthusiasm. He paused a little as he thought of the best plan of attack then he turned to Sam and said, "I'll go get Newton."

"Who is Newton?" Emily asked.

Dean grinned, "The best training aide. He just stands there and takes everything you throw at him!"

Emily raised her eyebrow; she was sure he was having her on and she refused to be baited.

"So you must have started pretty young," Sam stated, but really he was asking.

"Six. Getting me a sibling to play with was clearly not going to happen, so mom decided I needed an activity that would help me blow off all the excess energy I had and teach me a little discipline! I was kind of a handful growing up," she shrugged sheepishly.

Sam looked at Dean. He could not imagine growing up without him. He remembered the squabbles and petty fights as children, and how dad would get so frustrated and make them run laps. Seems physical exertion was every parent's answer to extremely exuberant children.

"You must have been lonely!" Dean beat Sam to the punch.

"Actually I wasn't. I had a pretty wild imagination, I had great friends, my parents were awesome, I had books and I got into computers pretty early too. I was a Scout, I played soccer, baseball and tennis and most of all, I had music. Of course there were random times, I wished for a sibling, but most times, I did not even notice the lack of one."

It still sounded pretty lonely to Sam and Dean, but Emily was, for lack of a better word, well adjusted. Being an only child had clearly not been detrimental to her.

Bobby reappeared a few minutes later lugging the biggest effigy she had ever seen.

"Meet Newton!" both Sam and Dean grinned like loons.

"String him up!" Bobby said with a chuckle.

Sam hang the effigy on a low hanging branch. He and Dean moved off to sit on the porch to watch the proceedings. They couldn't hear what Bobby was saying, but Dean hoped he included telling her not to pussyfoot or pull punches around an opponent! She was listening intently, her head cocked, lips pursed and she was frowning in fierce concentration though at times they could see her mouth twitch in amusement.

That was because Bobby was on a sort of power trip. "It's good you're trained and that you're really good. You've got the speed, the flexibility, the power and the technique, but unfortunately, you were trained in a controlled environment. What happens in those regulated, barefooted classes where your opponent knows the same moves as you and curtseys before a fight, will most definitely not happen outside. Outside, your opponent or opponents will not wait for you to kick off your heels or change into something comfortable, they won't care about your emotional state, or whether you're hurt, they won't care whether it's raining or cold. No, outside fighting is chaos. You have to learn to adjust and take advantage of the chaos. When you lose your weapon and I don't recommend that you do, you have to be able to use whatever is around you to get through. You will have to fight dirty, not pretty. So first, keep it simple. Get it done as quickly and economically as possible. If you can get your opponent down in one move, do it in one move, not five 'really cool' moves, there's no TV crew and you're not Bruce Lee! Effectiveness is what counts."

He paused and looked at her, "So are you ready to start?"

She couldn't help herself. "Yes, Sensei!" she smiled at him.

"Idjit!" he grumbled, "So we'll practice on Newton for a while, but he's a not a proper opponent because, he's won't be coming at you with intention to kill you."

He beckoned Sam over and had him demonstrate what he wanted Emily to do. Then it was her turn to have a go at the effigy.

Dean had to admit she was a quick study. Move for move she repeated what Sam had done. He could tell that Sam and Bobby were as impressed as he was. Bobby had her repeat the sequence of moves, having her adjust her stance and movements for her height and weight.

Shit, in no time at all, this kid was going to kick ass and take names, no doubt about that! He was so damn proud, he forgot he was opposed to the training!

She was out there for an hour taking only two five minutes water breaks. By the time she was done, she was sweating like a pig, panting like a steamboat but grinning like a fool. "How did I do?" she breathed.

Her enthusiasm was contagious. Sam and Dean found themselves high-fiving her. Sam told her she was great and Dean said she was nearly as awesome as they were.

* * *

The next morning, Emily was up bright and early and raring to go even before Sam who was the early riser of the two brothers. Dean groaned when he heard her knock at their door and implore them to get a move on. He glanced at the clock, 5:35! In the freaking morning! Good God! How could both his siblings be early risers? What had he even been thinking when he offered to go for the run? Sam was up and out in five minutes. Fifteen minutes later, Dean made it downstairs where his annoyingly awake siblings were waiting. They laughed at the look on his face.

"No one has the right to be this chipper this early in the morning!" he groused.

"Good morning grumpy!" Emily was practically bouncing in place.

"Can I at least have a sip of coffee?" he begged.

"After the run!" they both informed him.

They began their laps round the directly visible peripheral edge of Bobby's property. It was her first run since she'd left home for college but she run the equivalent of a mile and a half before she began to speed walk. The boys continued with their run.

That day she practised with Newton for fifteen minutes then sparred with Sam for thirty minutes.

On day six, Bobby moved her onto defense moves and again had her practicing with Sam. Sam was doing a lot more than sidestepping now. She was really making him work. On day nine Dean finally joined the session. His excuse being that he wanted to see if she could handle more than one attacker … after all, unlike in the movies bad guys didn't wait in line for their turn! She effectively held him and Sam off for about fifteen minutes which he deemed a major accomplishment because of how little the two of them were actually holding back. Day eleven, brought ground fighting. "If a fight isn't over quickly, chances are high, you'll end up on the ground. Down, don't mean out! You have to keep going!" Bobby had explained. Ground fighting sure involved a lot of grovelling and literal dust eating!

Day fourteen involved the first weapon; a wooden knife which she proved very competent with reminding them without words that she had until her attack carried a butterfly knife in her boot. Clearly, it had not been there just for show, she knew how to use it. Apparently, she had loved using a tanto when it had been introduced in her formal karate training. "Your opponent should feel the steel before he sees it!" she had quoted to Dean, telling him off for waving his knife around too much. Sam had snickered. He knew Dean watched too many bad 80's gang movies and had picked up the 'wave around a knife to be intimidating thing' from them.

She proved less capable with a machete and a stake, finding both weapons too large and unwieldy and she could not really get past the effect they would have on an opponent. However, she had asked for the training so she put aside her misgivings about decapitation and continued without complaint. By this time she was running two miles give or take a few feet. Nothing close to how far her brothers run but respectable enough.

On day seventeen she managed to throw Dean, who lay on the ground stunned by the occurrence. Sam had a field day with this, laughing loudly and obnoxiously for minutes which finally led to Dean huffing that he had allowed himself to get thrown. The very next day as if by divine intervention, she pinned Sam, to Dean's utter joy.

"At least I wasn't pinned by Punky Barbie!" he crowed with laughter.

Bobby was amused by how much the training had evolved into a competition between Sam and Dean which had inadvertently improved Emily's skill and confidence even more than classic training would have, and best of all, had brought the three siblings even closer if Emily's goodnatured teasing of her brothers and their return quips and approving back slaps were anything to go by.


	19. Chapter 19

Unfortunately, the boys left before the shooting lessons could start, their departure precipitated by an email Sam had got from a friend of his. The fact that Sam still kept in touch with his college friends had gotten some gruff, disgruntled words from Dean but Sam was determined to go and Dean couldn't let him go alone. Secretly, he was glad to be going on a hunt even though he was highly skeptical that this was their kind of thing. He'd enjoyed the break from hunting, he'd enjoyed hanging with Sam and Emily but he was ready for the road. He admitted to himself that he would miss Emily.

They drove back to the yard from the town, to pick up their stuff and say their goodbyes. Emily was out practicing with Newton, guarded by Rumsfeld as usual. Her guitar propped on the back steps. They sat in the car and watched her for a while. Sam was thinking her dedication reminded him of Dean and Dean was thinking she shouldn't be there.

"Is she normal?" Dean mused.

It was a stupid question but it was justified. He really didn't know much about women, his knowledge restricted to fiction, namely TV, comics and the books he'd been forced to read in school. His other perceptions came from his one night stands whose names he never remembered, the damsels in distress he rescued during cases, Cassie and an idealised four year-old's memory of his mother.

Fictional women weren't real, right? He knew some of their qualities must be founded in reality, but he didn't know which qualities. In his world, there were the helpless women that needed protecting from both supernatural and human evil. Then there were those women who used you as much as you used them. He had no chauvinistic illusions that he was the only one doing the using during those one night stands; those women knew what they were doing from the get go, and were just as cynical as he was, sometimes more. Then there were the women who weren't helpless, or cynical, but were insecure. Cassie had been one of those. Her disbelief in his story stemmed from the fact that she thought he was trying to get rid of her. She hadn't been secure in his love for her. Then there were women like his mother. Smart, beautiful and soft and smelt like cookies. She also must have been rather fierce, to try and fight a monster that was in her son's nursery.

Emily was the first female he had interacted with in a less cursory manner, as an adult. She was … well, she filled so many pigeonholes, Dean didn't know what to think. She was independent; yes, she had needed rescuing before and probably would again, but that didn't mean she waited passively to be rescued. She was no damsel in distress, that was for sure. She was caring and understanding, and she would never use anyone, at least not intentionally. She was secure and confident, and didn't require validation from most people. He'd noticed though, that she did care what he, Sam and Bobby thought about her, so maybe there was an insecurity there, but she hid it well. She was slightly cynical, but who wouldn't be in this life. Sam the ever optimist was of course the exception to the rule. At least Emily was not a raging cynic yet. He hoped she wouldn't become one. She was one of the happiest, most enthusiastic, people he knew but you couldn't miss the scars of her past if you looked carefully in her eyes. She would never live up to his mother's memory, that was a memory untainted by adult enlightenment, but she was still smart, beautiful and yes, she was soft and smelt … well, pretty, for lack of a better word, but she was strong and could be really unyielding.

She had character flaws of course; she was single-minded, sometimes to the point of being thoughtless, she was too hard on herself, and her independence verged on the point of complete guardedness. She was however learning that interdependence wasn't weakness, so that might soon be resolved. She had little patience and wasn't particularly sympathetic to people she felt had deliberately put themselves in certain situations, and unless it was a topic or a person she liked, she wouldn't explain more than once. Sometimes he liked her, other times he disliked her, sometimes he wanted to hug her, and others to throttle her.

Sam laughed, understanding his brother's question and not judging him for it. "Dean, girls are also three dimensional people, you know!"

They got out of the car and went over to where she was.

"Hey Rae!" Dean greeted. The boys had taken to calling her Rae, which had come from the initials of her names, last to first. She thought it was nice, she liked it. They had another pet name for her, Mimi which they rarely used. However, she had noticed that they tended to use it when their emotions were particularly raw. She was partial to it because it sounded like a doll or a pink obsessed girl, but her objections were not really heartfelt since she liked that they used atypical nicknames for her. Em was just about the only nickname she'd ever had. Her parents had tried to change it up by calling her Ems. The boys calling her Ems would have sent her into a depression so deep, she wouldn't have survived.

Of course Dean called her so many other things. He'd used She-Hulk, Ice Maiden, Punky Barbie, Kickerbell and other names depending on the situation. Of course she would take any name, any day over use of her actual middle name, Ira. The day Dean had found out, he had just about died of laughter. "What kind of name is that?" he had asked between gasps. Emily had informed him with her nose in the air that it meant 'Warrior' in Greek. He hadn't been impressed, just continued snorting with laugher. She had decked him. Her mother had given her that name. She might hate it herself but it didn't give him a right to snicker at it. She did secretly acknowledge that if it had been someone else's name, she might have had a private snicker at it too. Both brothers used Emily when they were shocked or angry.

"Hi guys," she smiled, "what's up?" she steadied the dummy and turned to them.

"We're leaving. Got a gig down in Cali." Dean cut to the chase as usual.

"Oh!" the smile fell from Emily's face.

"We'll be back," Sam placated, " and we'll call you obviously!"

"You don't even have my number!'

"Actually, we do!" Dean said with a cheeky smile. He handed her a new phone. "There's only four numbers on there, mine under Ninja, Sam's under BFF, Bobby's and Jim's. This is your hunter phone. You can keep the other one for normal life."

As if she had a normal life. She had stopped calling her friends, and Jackie and Wade had returned to their daughter in Australia and were considering staying permanently. She laughed at the way he had saved his and Sam's number, then asked incredulously "Wait, Jim? Pastor Jim is a hunter?"

"You think a man of God can't kick ass?" Dean laughed.

"Guess he can, but I'm pretty sure he's not allowed to say ass!"

"Okay, smarty pants, about the phone, this is how it'll be. When we call you, the phone will ring three times then stop. It'll ring again immediately but don't pick up until the third ring. When you do, don't speak until you hear who is at the other end and you're sure it's me or Sam."

Emily looked at him like he had grown a second head. "Isn't that overkill guys? I mean this thing isn't going to call me on the phone!"

"No, that's unlikely, but it's not what we're worried about. For now, besides Bobby and Pastor Jim, no one really knows who you are to us and it's best we keep it that way for now. We don't want anything or anyone targeting you because of us." Sam explained.

"Okay, I'll help you grab your stuff." The nonchalance was a front.

The boys said their goodbyes to Bobby who was in the kitchen on the phone pretending to be a supervising agent for another hunter. Emily walked them to their car and said goodbye so casually that it was obvious it was an act.

* * *

"Hey, we'll be back as soon as we finish this gig." Dean tried to cheer up his brother who was looking forlorn. They'd been on the road for two hours already. It felt good!

For Dean to suggest returning to Bobby's after a case and after having been there nearly two months was shocking and Sam smiled. However, he also knew their life was not quite consistent. "What if we're not, Dean? You know how these things sometimes snowball. One case turns into another in a nearby town and then into another. Before you know it, we'll be even further away!"

"We'll get back as soon as we can." Dean said firmly as though daring the universe to say otherwise.

"Think she'll be okay?"

"Of course! Bobby will keep her safe. Besides, she's got the ring and no one except us knows who she really is."

"Pastor Jim too. Bobby told him. He had to after the hospital call."

"Jim's okay." Dean reminded his brother who still hadn't perked up.

"I know. I'm just worried. We never even figured out what was after her. We wasted all that time at Bobby's!" If anything, Sam was becoming even more despondent.

"Hey, hey, listen to me. That time at Bobby's was not a waste of time. We had a much deserved break but best of all, we bonded with our sister."

"Yeah," Sam with a hint of a smile.

There was beat of silence then both brothers said at the same time, "She's a lot like you!"

Another moment of surprised silence followed, then in unison they asked each other, "How?"

"You first." Dean decided. He was truly curious to see how Sam could possibly find any similarities between him and the kid.

"Well, she's into cars…"

"And that about covers it. She most certainly isn't into chicks and beer!"

"God no!" Sam laughed. Then he smiled silently, thoughtfully for a while before adding, "Well, she's determined, has a snarky sense of humor, a smart mouth and is an idiot who doesn't understand what the term the odds are against you means. She's big on family, has got a big 'ole heart," he glanced at his brother, noticed he was starting get embarrassed so he added lightly, "she eats like you too, except she's got table manners!"

Dean laughed heartily. It had certainly amazed him how much food Emily could put away. "She grew up in an actual house, of course she has table manners! I grew up in motels and diners!" he told his brother with a grin.

"So did I, but I still chew with my mouth closed!"

Dean snorted happily. He chewed the way he did to get a raise out of Sam. It never failed.

Sam also thought Emily like Dean, was unfortunately too hard on herself and too independent, fiercely independent actually. Both absolutely hated to rely on others. Unlike them though, she was not self sacrificing to the point of martyrdom. No, the girl was altruistic and dutiful but she knew when to cut her losses.

"So how is she like me? And don't say she's a girl coz I'll beat your ass!" he asked his brother.

Dean snorted. He was going to say that! Damn all knowing kid brothers! "Uh, she's a certified geek and she's anal about how to squeeze a toothpaste tube!"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Dean, you grab and squeeze the tube anywhere and everywhere like a two year old! Everyone knows you squeeze from the bottom!"

"Yeah, whatever Joe Friday! She loves to read, she's a smarty pants. And she's relentless, like you. Gosh, the kid never gives up, she'll keep picking and picking and picking some more. She's a bleeding heart too, wears the bloody thing on her sleeve, is all empathic and kind, and all that shit. And the temper…

"Is dad's!" Sam jumped in before Dean could complete the sentence.

"Yeah!" Dean exclaimed in a surprised voice. The brothers laughed. Dean also thought Emily was too spontaneous.

They listened to the music in silence for a long time then Dean said with a fond smile, "She's a posh Winchester!"

"Huh?" Sam asked.

Dean was quiet for a moment, then he defended, "Yeah, she's posh!"

Sam laughed out loud. "Posh?" he had never thought the day would come when he would hear his brother say that word as a compliment and not a derisive dismissal.

Growing up, they had moved a lot and hence changed schools a lot. Both of them had never fit in at any of the schools they attended, but Dean, master of facades had found a niche for himself playing the bad boy. He swaggered and strutted like a cock, and Sam snorted laughter at him, but not for long because the front worked. All the rich, stuck up princess types were attracted to that fake persona.

Dean wouldn't have had much contempt for them if they had liked him for him and not for the cool factor. These same girls who wanted to be seen in his car, would never invite him into their houses or their stupid exclusive clubs, not that he wanted to go. They would never enter the motel he was staying at. They shunned Sam because of his hand me downs, torn jeans and scuffed shoes. It made Dean so mad, but Sam didn't mind. He usually managed to make a friend or two who accepted him the way he was which was why when they had to leave a town, he was the one who got upset and never Dean, because Dean did not bond with anyone. His act was for his brother's benefit. It kept the bullies away from Sam.

That is why in Dean's world, posh was an unflattering insult not a compliment. Until now.

He was now frowning as he realised what Sam was thinking. "No, I mean posh in a good way. She's classy, real classy not fake, like those snobbish girls who thought they were better than us simply because they had rich parents. You're the one with the big words you probably know a better word to use."

Yeah, Sam knew what Dean was saying. Emily had poise that had nothing to do with money or clothes. True, she walked like she was on springs and for the most part, exercised no restraint when expressing her emotions; She bounced around like a little kid when she was happy, laughed like a hyena, yelled like a shrew when she was mad and was downright mouthy. However, when she held still, she had a soft regality to her.

Sam thought back to their meeting with her grandmother and suddenly he could see it. Emily had inherited Cece's regal bearing. Only she wasn't quite as imposing as her grandmother.

Well, Sam could think of one other thing Emily did not have in common with them or their dad. Music.

Emily liked cars and food like Dean. Liked to read and got along with technology like Sam, but her first and most absolute love was music. He and Dean loved music, no doubt about that. Dean loved mullet rock and some blues though he would never admit that. He could tolerate some other music but only barely. Sam did love mullet rock, liked the blues well enough and liked some songs from other genres he would never tell Dean about for fear of being forever labelled emo! Emily didn't just love music. She was passionate about it. She loved the Blues above all but she still loved everything else! Okay that was an exaggeration, but she could be counted on to find something to like about at least one song in any genre. If it was not the actual music, which she was totally obsessed with, it was the lyrics, if not those, then the song's arrangement, or the way the music went with the lyrics. There was always something she liked, however random! Her iPod which she had lent him for the road was full of songs. Some by people or groups he had never heard of. Dean would never allow him to hook it up to the Impala so he would listen to it at later point, maybe when Dean was asleep or watching TV. He hadn't been surprised when she told him she had planned to do a joint major of music and mathematics after freshman year.

"Well, she's a musical Winchester too!" he said out loud.

Dean laughed because Emily was the only musical Winchester. He, Sam and their dad, did not have a single musical bone in their body while Emily was practically made of melody. "Yeah! Kid sure can sing! And her guitar skills are not half bad." Dean agreed.

That coming from Dean was high praise. Sam knew she had garnered his respect when she had played 'All Along the Watchtower" and 'Purple Haze' for him one night. Then she had completely stolen his heart when she spent an hour unsuccessfully trying to teach him how to play the guitar.

Dean was thinking of the same night. He remembered how she had grinned at him after the failed lesson and said, "Guess I should get you a drum set instead!" Sam had howled with laughter and she had turned to him and said, "You, I would lock in a closet and throw away the key!" Dean had nearly died laughing.

Then Sam had pointed out a star and said something geeky and she'd asked him an even more geeky question and had then listened rapt as Sam discussed the constellations. Dean had zoned out because he was not a geek, but he remembered the look in her eyes that night, a look Sam had once had.

"She's still so innocent!" he said suddenly, "God I wish there was a way she could hold onto it!" the pain was palpable in his voice.

Sam sighed, "That was why you were so against training her." It wasn't a question.

Dean looked incredulously at his brother. "You took hers and Bobby's side on that! So don't go acting like you understand!"

Of all people, Dean had not thought Sam would agree to training Emily. Sam had always been ambivalent towards hunting, in fact, leant more towards the hate side of ambivalent, so why he would willingly let Emily take up hunting was a mystery. Had Jessica's death changed him so much?

Sam sensed his brother's turmoil, "Knowledge is never a bad thing, Dean. I don't want her to be a hunter, but evil is out there and it doesn't care much for innocence. For her sake she needs to know how to protect herself if ever she needs to. We had to give her a fighting chance. Dad did it for you. You did it for me. It's only fair we do it for her. At least in her case she wanted it."

"You hated dad for doing the same thing!" Dean objected.

"I did not hate dad. I resented him, and I resented him for taking away your childhood. You were too young."

"Don't you mean our childhood?"

"No. I had a childhood. You gave me one, Dean. Despite everything you knew, despite being on the road the whole time, you gave me a childhood. Probably would have been longer than eight years if I hadn't been so curious and looked in dad's journal."

"I did have a childhood. Four years worth. I had it better than you actually, cos I had the house and the yard and the whole shebang!" Dean attempted to smile.

"And had it ripped away, not just by mum's death, but by dad's quest too. All, I'm saying is that he could have waited for you to grow up some before laying all that shit on you."

"So this Becky chick? You didn't tell me whether she was hot or not!" Dean said while turning up the volume of the radio.

Sam sighed. The subject of their father always came up no matter what they were originally talking about and it always led to a disagreement and a snarky change of subject. He shifted and turned to look out the window.

* * *

**Gosh don't hate me for making the boys leave, and not taking Emily with them. I feel it would be too soon for her to go hunting with them now. The time will come, but it's not now.**


	20. Chapter 20

Bobby started Emily on shooting two days after her brothers left. She was gloomy and withdrawn; not even the runs and the combat training were taking her out of her funk, which was unusual and unsettling. So he hoped the loudness and novelty of the shooting exercise would cheer her up.

"I hope we are not going to use Newton for this!"

"No way! I like Newton more than I like most people!" Bobby answered. Her smile was reward enough.

He lined up beer bottles on top of a car wreck, showed her how to chamber and shoot the shotgun then handed it to her. He missed her raised eyebrow and subsequent eye roll.

She bulls-eyed the first bottle, Bobby called it beginners luck, she hit the second off centre, he called it more beginner's luck, she bulls-eyed the third, he called it a fluke. She clipped the fourth and missed the fifth and he smiled, said that was more like it. She glared at him, corrected her stance and hit the next seven targets.

She smirked at him.

"Okay," he took the smirk for the challenge it was. "let's see how you do with a greater distance."

He lined more bottles and made her step five yards back. She got all targets even though she wasn't on centre for all of them.

He made her go back five more yards, then five more, then five more. Her accuracy gave out at about 60 yards. Bobby was impressed but mad too. "Natural skills or something else?" he asked a little snappily.

"I used to go to a shooting club with my mom. We went twice each month. On the fourth weekend, I went fishing with Dad!" she said with fondness and sadness. Bobby figured the other weekend was when she had her karate training.

"Your parents sound interesting!" Bobby was fishing for information without being blatant. She rarely talked about her parents.

"Complete opposites. You've seen their picture right?" Bobby nodded. He had seen the picture. The small blonde woman and the dark-haired giant of a man, yep, complete opposites. "Well, my mom was a U.S. Marshal and my dad was a cryptanalyst and would you believe it, a total pacifist. We'd keep only the one fish, threw the rest back." Emily laughed softly.

"You know, that explains some things about you." Bobby considered. "So why didn't you say anything about being able to shoot?" he couldn't help grousing.

She had wanted to, but the boys were treating her like a two year old who might get hurt just standing too close to fireworks, so she had kept her knowledge to herself, wanting to surprise them when the time came. It of course would have been an in-your-face kind of surprise, which she acknowledged wasn't very nice. She could unfortunately be a little vindictive. Well, no one was all nice, right?

"I guess it never came up," she said instead.

"Yeah, well, figures that a Winchester would have learnt to shot one way or another!" Bobby thought with a shake of his head. It was a little disconcerting that she had learnt with her mother. He had expected her to say she and her dad had been game hunters or something. "Well, good on you, because a shotgun is a hunter's best companion to go with the hunter's best friend, rock salt. So what about handguns?"

Her answer was a self conscious shrug, "I was pretty accurate up to about 50 yards, but I could still hit a 55 yard target."

She had nothing on him or the Winchester boys, especially Dean, but still, it was good. "That's pretty impressive."

"Thanks, but it really isn't. I've been shooting since I was thirteen and the targets are stationary. I should have been better by now."'

There it was, another Winchester trait, never thinking they were good enough. "if you can clip a 55 yard target, you're plenty good. Okay? Besides, most of the things we hunt are going to be a lot closer to you though they're certainly not stationary, so long distance shooting isn't a big deal in this life. So what did you shoot?"

"Shotguns? We used the 870 Remington express combo for skeet shooting. Handguns? At the club, we used Rugers. For single action, I used a Blackhawk convertible. 357 Magnum and for double action I used the GP100 .357 Magnum and sometimes a a Redhawk .44 Magnum. When we'd go to the cabin, mom would sometimes let me use her glock and her colt."

It was illegal for her mother to let her use her service guns, but what no one knew didn't hurt. Bobby wasn't going to tell anyone now.

He in turn raised his eyebrows in disbelief. That answer right there, given without even a hint of gloating was a reminder of just how different her life had been. The kid had been a member of a shooting club that could afford fucking Rugers!

"A Blackhawk convertible! Now that's a versatile gun!" he said in appreciation.

"Yeah, interchangeable cylinder. What do you use?"

"Whatever I can get from the market and gotta tell you, the market ain't flush with Rugers! So I take it you haven't used a Taurus or a Smith and Wesson before?"

"No."

"So maybe I can finally give you a challenge! I got a S & W for you. It's a 686." Bobby handed over the gun.

She took the gun. "Mmm, it's a little lighter, shorter barrel but I can work with it." She spoke like a mathematician considering a problem, no arrogance or superiority at play, just stating of a fact.

It did take her a while to achieve some semblance of accuracy, but she finally got there.

"Okay, keep that up for fifteen more minutes, just to make sure it ain't a fluke, then give Newton a beat down for thirty, practice your defense moves for another thirty and when you're done, and you've cleaned off, we'll discuss how to look after your guns, cos a well looked after gun will look after you. An unlooked after gun, not so much!"

She laughed. He had a way of saying ordinary things in the most unusual way. She loved the old coot. She would humour him though she knew how to strip and clean a gun, thank you very much. But revision never hurt anyone, and Bobby would undoubtedly know something she didn't, after all, look how he had totally changed her fighting style into something more practical.

Bobby smiled and went to the house. He did not have to tell Rumsfeld to stay because the dog had practically adopted the girl.

She came inside two hours later, he wondered idly which part of the training she had added more time to. She returned the gun and went upstairs. The singing started the minute the shower began to run. He smiled fondly.

A few minutes later he heard a vehicle roll into his yard. He crossed over to the kitchen to look outside and his eyes widened in shock. He grabbed his flask of holy water and waited by the door. When the knock came, he flung the door open and threw the holy water in the person's face.


	21. Chapter 21

John shook his hair out.

"Guess holy water beats a bullet!" he said ruefully, remembering the last meeting between him and Bobby.

"That can still happen!" Bobby warned him gruffly. "Why are you here?"

"I got a call from Missouri about two months ago telling me to come see you. She didn't say why."

"Two months ago? Wow, you're a prompt one, ain't yah!" Bobby said sarcastically. "You really are an autocratic bastard! Wonder how you made it as a marine with that bighead of yours!" Bobby stood aside and let him get inside.

"I had things going on!" John growled as he went past Bobby and immediately his eyebrows shot up as he heard Emily sing.

"Anyone I know?" he asked with a smirk.

"Not yet, but if you answered your damn phone once in a while or called back, you would. That's Emily."

"Way to go Bobby!"

"No wonder Dean's mind lives in the gutter!" Bobby groused. "It's not what you think. If you had paid more attention to her location than to her voice, you'd notice that she was using the guest bathroom. She's just a kid, John and here's the kicker…"

"She's working her way through college?" John smirked.

"She's your kid!"

"Christo!"

"I'm not possessed!"

"High?" John laughed.

"Not high either. Remember those four months you completely lost? Well, turns out you were down in the aptly named town, Eros, indulging your inner Eros with a broad. Emily is the result of that time."

John threw his head back and laughed. He absolutely loved Bobby's humour. Indulging his inner Eros in a town called Eros! Gosh the man had a gift with words when he used them.

"Not joking either, Chuckles!" Bobby said gruffly.

John chortled appreciatively for a moment more, until the rest of the sentence hit him and he went quiet as he thought and remembered. Those four months were indeed a blank. For a while, he had made an effort to find out what had transpired but had given up and returned to his sons and Pastor Jim.

He'd told the pastor about his experience and together they researched every possible scenario from possession to sleepwalking! Of course none fit, and they had quit on the research as other matters and hunts presented themselves. Both men however agreed that whatever had happened in those four months would definitely come back and bite John in the ass someday. Looked like that day was now.

"Wait! Bobby, is Eros by any chance in Indiana?"

"No, it's in Louisiana. Why?"

"I remember this pregnant woman in Gentryville who attacked me."

"That would be Celeste. Emily's mother."

"Why was she in Indiana?"

"Looking for you, only she knew you as Gale."

"Jesus, Bobby, you think I left my kids for four months to have an affair with a woman who I lied to about my identity and then left when she got pregnant? Damn, I didn't think your opinion of me was so low." John sobered.

"No, I know even you, wouldn't be so callous."

"And yet you're so sure that kid up there is mine!"

"Because I had a DNA test done."

"Really? I don't remember giving you a sample!"

"I got samples from Sam and Dean."

"What?" John's voice was dangerous. "You dragged my sons into this?"

"I was actually trying to clear you while helping out a lost kid at the same time. Unfortunately, it turned out the kid really is yours."

"She can't be. Whatever happened those four months, was not me."

"And whatever it was, it was clever and had covered its tracks!" he thought. It had jacked his body in Georgia, perversely used him in Louisiana, and then dumped him in Virginia. In his short quest for answers to those four months, he had not factored in a third state. He had only investigated Jesup and its immediate surrounding towns in Georgia, and Bland County in Virginia. Damn, whatever had taken him was intelligent. That ruled out a great number of supernatural beings, many of which were not known for their brilliance, only their blood thirst.

"I'm aware something was riding you, but the kid is yours, John. Doesn't matter whether you were in control or not," Bobby said.

"You by any chance find out what it was? The thing that did this I mean."

God the man had a one track mind, probably hadn't spared the kid a thought. Sometimes Bobby wanted to shake him for being an insensitive bastard. "No. Haven't gotten round to that yet. I was more concerned with keeping her alive!"

"Alive?"

"Something tried to kill her. Damn near succeeded too. Slit her arms."

"Something supernatural?"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Thought saying something and not someone was cue enough! I highly doubt a regular animal would slit a person's wrist, but what do I know?"

"Is she okay?" Finally, a personal question.

"Yeah. A neighbour found her, called an ambulance. She, the neighbour is probably still in rehab! The doctor called me. I called you and the boys. Since then, I've tried to call you a couple of times, left you messages. Jim too. I'm sure the boys did too."

John was quiet remembering all the calls and messages he had ignored.

"So this is the situation Dean was talking about, huh?"

"Most likely."

John buried his head in his hands. Poor Dean, he had sounded so tired and sad in that message. John regretted placing such a burden on his son's shoulders from a young age. He knew what had put that sadness in his son's voice. Dean had had to make a decision and it had broken his heart. John immediately guessed what that decision had been. He knew his sons; knew Dean would have made a hunter's decision, and that Sam would not have approved but would still have deferred to his brother. So John guessed that the boys had walked away from their sister to protect her.

But their selfless act had not been enough to grant her immunity. Was this life a Winchester's curse? If so, then his decision to keep the truth of the supernatural from Adam was the wrong one.

* * *

He had found out about Adam three years ago. At first the boy had had a huge chip on his shoulder at what he perceived as abandonment by his father but had gradually warmed up to John. He was a good kid, tough and strong-willed but with a friendly, caring side to him. He would probably follow in his mother's medical steps and even further. He was fifteen now, well adjusted for a teenager, none of those bitchy, sullen moods Sam had perfected at that age. Adam was happy and completely oblivious to the other world out there, including his brothers and now, if Bobby was not pulling an elaborate joke, his sister. That really was the only thing that made John sad; that Adam would never know Sam and Dean and as the situation stood now, Emily.

Emily, that was a beautiful name, he certainly wouldn't have come up with that one. He wondered what she was like. Probably as stubborn as all get out. His sons no matter how different they were from each other were all stubborn and strong-willed. When they made a stand, they were unyielding. It infuriated him to no end but he acknowledged they got it from him. It was the one thing he gifted his children so it was within reason that Emily would be stubborn. The real question was, would she be stubborn in the subtle, joke cracking way Dean was, or the loud, gesticulating, defiant method Sam used, or the diplomatic I'm listening to you and pretending to take your side so you can leave me alone ploy Adam had perfected?

He remembered the crazy waitress who had tried to skin him. God, he hoped Emily was nothing like her in temperament. On second thought, if she looked anything like her mother, then he hoped she had the knife skills to keep all those shady boys at bay. If not, John himself would teach her how to shoot and skin!

He probably would have to anyway, now that she had been marked. He hoped she had had a wonderful life before she had been dragged into this crazy shit one. He hoped she would be able to return to that life but he knew that was impossible. He had once thought he would return to his old life but it was now 21 years and counting.

Twenty-one years! God, Sam, had been raised on the road. In a way he was better off than Dean, who had had normal only to have it ripped away. Sam did not have a before and after like Dean. Still, there was so much Sam had missed out on, so much John could not give him.

He knew Dean had tried to give his brother as much normal as he could, had protected him from their world as long as he could. As a result Sam was big-hearted and kind, like his brother who pretended otherwise, but unlike him, Sam desperately wanted to find the good in everything, even monsters. His idealism and naivety scared John shitless and when Sam had decided to go off to college, John's fear had been expressed in the only way he knew how … through anger and aggression. And for the first time since he'd become a teenager, Sam had not reacted with anger and aggression like John had become used to. Instead the boy had gone quiet, looked at his father with hurt and betrayal, spared Dean, the same look only this one was softened with sadness and love, then he had walked out of the motel they were staying at. John hadn't spoken to his son since then.

At first he had raged and called Sam selfish for leaving him and Dean behind, for leaving the hunt. In retrospect he knew he had been an asshole about the whole affair though he would never admit it. Sam had left for two reasons, both unselfish and one downright noble.

First, Sam left because he believed he was not needed, at least not in the hunting life. He wasn't being a drama queen like John had accused him. John was the leader, the commanding officer, Dean was his right-hand man, his dependable soldier. But what was Sam? He simply was the youngest, the one to be protected. So he figured they could do without him on hunts. He hadn't been bitter about it. He had said it like the simple fact that it was. He hadn't expected John to see it as a ploy for attention or praise. Sam had figured he could go to college, while staying in touch with his father and brother. Maybe away from his enigmatic kin, he would finally find himself and also figure out his place in the family dynamics. Instead John had called him selfish and written him off.

Second, he left for Dean. Sam was a hunter without a cause. John hunted for revenge, Dean hunted so others wouldn't know the loss he and his family had suffered. Sam on the other hand did not have a big grand motive for hunting. He didn't do it for the thrill, for the glory, for a mother he didn't remember, heck he didn't even do it because his father expected him to. No, he did it for Dean. Sam hunted just to back up his brother, to keep an eye on him and keep him safe. From the time he became aware of what lurked out there, he hadn't really trusted John to keep Dean safe. John didn't blame him, he knew he had dropped the ball on being a father. Anyway, during one hunt, Dean had deliberately put himself in danger to protect Sam. It was then that Sam realised with a jolt that his presence during a hunt negated his role of being a backup for Dean. So Sam left the hunt for the same reason he had been in it. He left for Dean. To no avail, he had tried to explain this to a raging father and a silent unsupportive brother.

Dean! John's thoughts had come back full circle.

Dean had not said a thing that evening. He had not tried to stop his brother from leaving. At first John had not understood why. Dean always came between him and Sam. He was their very own personal negotiator, their saving grace. Without him, John did not think he and Sam would have kept from killing each other. Dean, the world's worst communicator when it came to his own feelings, always knew what to say to get Sam or John to back down or back off. John had always taken the boy's ability for granted till that night when without his guidance, John had crashed and burnt the bridge between him and Sam.

With time John had come to understand why Dean had been quiet. He had been torn. For once in his life, in their life, he had been put in a position where he could not choose.

He had always wanted what was best for his brother. The big brother, protector part of him agreed with Sam, this part of him wanted his brother to leave this life, to go have an apple pie life and be safe but another part, that vulnerable, lost boy part that had no friends aside from his brother, did not want Sam to go. Of course he would not have gone about it like John did.

No, Dean knew his brother. Despite being volatile and loud when he was fighting with his father, Sam was sensitive. Anything said to him hit him hard and burrowed deep, never to be forgotten. So no, Dean would not have said the things John did. He would simply have asked. Asked him to stay, and Sam would have stayed because Dean had asked. But both would have had a bad case of what if. What if I had gone? What if I had not kept him from going? Dean could live with anything as long as it didn't cause Sam pain.

So Dean had stayed silent. Unfortunately Sam had taken Dean's silence as a betrayal. Thought Dean's silence meant he agreed with their father.

When Sam had walked out that door, Dean's heart had broken. He had not said anything to his father, but John knew his son had never looked at him the same again. He really had lost both his sons that night.

He was a crap father.

"Whoa! Where did you go?" Bobby exclaimed.

John shook himself out. "Sorry. So what's she like?" he asked.

"Interesting!" Bobby said with a smile. "You'll find out soon enough."

John took in the words and the smile on Bobby's face and was immediately wary. How had this Emily girl managed to affect the gruff hunter in so short a time? What had she done to the man? He knew it was not natural.

"You did carry out tests right?"

"What?" Bobby was startled. When had the conversation shifted back to this?

"Bobby, she could be anything!" John admonished, "And I know my sons have been here, I do keep tabs on them you know!"

"You think I'm an idjit? That I'd knowingly expose the boys to danger? You know me better than that, John! I've made her drink holy water, intentionally, accidentally spilled salt and even gopher dust on her. I even brought out Karen's special flatware because it's pure silver! I've searched her things for hex bags just in case. And guess what, she walks clear across a devil's trap every time she enters my study, John! Not to mention the fact that she can recite the Rituale Romanum which would be quite a feat for a demon. Trust me, I have tested her with everything I know!"

They turned at the gasp.

Emily stood there straight and rigid, her mouth open in shock.

Shit, how had they not heard the singing stop? How long had she been standing there?

"Em…" Bobby began.

She seemed to straighten even further which as far as John was concerned was damn near impossible since she was already straight before. "Bobby … don't!" she said quietly.

Bobby was shocked because as far as he was concerned, Emily exploded when she was mad. Like when Rumsfeld had dug up her garden, or when Bobby had unintentionally dissed her and her mum that first day he met her, or when Dean had objected to training her in hunting, or when Sam had changed things around on her computer hard drive, those times and other times she had stormed and raged. This was new, this quiet icy anger was new and very disconcerting.

"Damn!" John thought. The girl's voice, soft and melodic, carried such icy anger, that it could stop a man in his tracks, as it had now stopped Bobby who was looking at her in shock. However, it was the eyes; eyes that were remarkably similar to his and Sam's that showed the true emotion she was feeling and that was pain and betrayal. The rigid body language and the cold anger were a mask.

If ever there was a test for being a Winchester, this was it! For a Winchester, hiding or camouflaging emotion was as easy and inherent as breathing.

Joy was acceptable, most likely the only emotion a Winchester wouldn't hide, probably because it came along so rarely for them. Everything else was game. Fear was masked with defiance or sarcasm, layered with cockiness or witticism, pain and grief were effectively covered with kinetic rage and worry was hidden behind studied indifference or name calling and sometimes anger. When it suited them, even anger was covered, usually by nonchalance and sometimes by humour only for it to erupt furiously on an unsuspecting victim.

All Winchesters did it, even Sam, whose greatest mask was the pretend openness he exuded. Many fell for it, but John knew Sam was just as closed off as him and Dean, was simply better at hiding it. The trick to reading a Winchester was in the eyes. Indeed, eyes were the mirror to the soul.

By the looks of things, Emily was most assuredly his daughter.

She looked at them a moment longer then turned and left the room. She went upstairs, snagged her car keys and slipped out.

"Fancy a car ride Rumsfeld?"

The dog jumped in through the driver's side and she followed him in, started the car and drove off.

"Crap, where is she going?" John jumped up in alarm when he heard the car start.

"Let her go. She'll be fine." Bobby spoke calmly even though his heart was beating faster than it had before, but he had lectured the boys about loosening the apron strings so he had to walk the talk.

"Fine? Bobby, you said something tried to kill her not so long ago, something you have not yet figured out. So how can you sit there all calm and sure she'll be fine?" John was beginning to sound angry and accusatory. Bobby knew he was worried. Good, it meant the man was thinking like a father and not a hunter.

"Don't worry, She's got the ring."

"What? Ring? What the hell, Bobby?"

"She's got this protection ring. Got it from her adoptive mother who got it from her biological mother who got it from her mother. It keeps her safe. You wouldn't know that from looking at the thing by the way, and I don't know how it works myself, but it does."

John wanted to ask about the numerous mothers, but his daughter's safety was still not assured. "And yet she still got attacked!" he exclaimed loudly and unconvinced.

"Only because she had taken it off then. You know what? As we wait, why don't I tell you the whole story, huh?"

John reluctantly sat back down and Bobby told him what he had learnt from the boys about Cece Deco, what little he knew about Celeste from the letter Emily had given him and the details she had found out at the beginning of her journey. He told him about the box and then relayed the attack on Emily.

"Let me get this straight. Under the influence of God knows what, I had a child with the daughter of a woman who seems to have supernatural powers? And now this child, who is very likely my daughter, is a target of something which by all accounts sounds like it is responsible for her mother's death and that of her adoptive parents? God, does this ever end? How the hell am I going to get the bottom of this when I am still trying to figure out what happened 21 years ago in my own house!"

There was silence as John tried to think about a game plan.

"I have to go check out this Cece woman myself. Ask a few questions of my own," He pushed his chair back.

Bobby could not believe the man. "You're going now?"

"No time like the present!"

"What about Emily?"

"What about her?"

Bobby looked at the man like he was seeing him for the first time. And maybe he was. "John you just found out you have a daughter and you're going to leave without even talking to her?"

"She's not here. Besides, I'll serve her better finding out what is after her, neutralising it and keeping her safe."

Bobby had had enough. "Keeping her safe, that is always your excuse, ain't it? Probably how you justified running off and leaving Dean, despite the boy's steadfast loyalty to you. Is that how you justify not answering his and Sam's calls? Well that's bullshit and it ain't gonna wash with me this time. I don't expect you to spend months here, heck I don't want you to, because I just might make good on that threat and shoot your stubborn ass with buckshot, but the least you can do is wait for your daughter and talk to her, see if she's okay. There's more to life than just staying alive and being safe. Be a father for god's sake!" he exploded.

The normal John Winchester reaction to such a statement would have been pure vitriol, reminding Bobby the boys were not his sons and Emily not his daughter, but instead he said, "I haven't been a father in 21 years, Bobby. I've been a hunter and to my sons a rigid drill sergeant and an uncaring dictator depending on which son you ask and I wouldn't know what to say to Emily. I'm aware I'm losing my sons, if I haven't lost them already and I might never have a relationship with my daughter but, it's a chance I'm willing to take. I can live with them hating and despising me, but I can't, I won't watch them die. The only thing I can offer them is a life free from monsters."

This was the saddest and most honest Bobby had ever seen John. The tough layer had been stripped away to show the raw man underneath.

"Even you cannot conquer all the monsters out there John." Bobby's voice was soft.

"I can conquer the ones after my children or die trying!" John said past the lump in his throat.

In the silence the two men looked at each other in a new light.

"Well, since you're feeling rather earnest about unravelling Emily's mystery, why don't you have a go at the box. Start at envelope thirteen then skip to sixteen if you want the relevant stuff. So how do you feel about my chili? I keep forgetting whether you like it or hate it!" Bobby broke the silence in the only way he knew John would appreciate.

**Guest appearance, John Winchester!**


	22. Chapter 22

Now she was alone, Emily could release the pain. Tears fell down her face and she wiped them away furiously. She refused to be a Sobbing Sue! But damn, it hurt; her father thought she might be a monster, and Bobby had tested her!

She drove about twenty minutes to the beach. Rumsfeld refused to play fetch, and she had no desire to get wet, so she took off her shoes and lay down in the sand, listened to the waves and watched the sky, replaying in her head the conversation she had heard. Great, now she would have to wash her hair again. She should have thought about that before lying in the sand. The dog lay down beside her.

"Lazy bugger!" she laughed at him.

As she calmed down in the peaceful surroundings, she gave herself a pep talk.

Time to stop acting like a jilted little princess and act like the strong girl her parents had raised and think like the hunter she wanted to be. What would she have done if she were in Bobby or John's shoes?

John first, as his betrayal didn't hurt quite as much, he was virtually a stranger after all. Ok, when she thought logically, she did not blame the man. Any hunter in his shoes would be suspicious. Along comes this girl he doesn't know from Eve, who turns out to be his daughter, but her existence is due to some supernatural being that had taken control of his body eighteen years ago. It sounded nuts at best, and downright dubious at worst. She was, for all he knew the supernatural offspring of whatever had jacked his body. Okay, she could see where he was coming from. Fine, she huffed. He was off the hook.

Okay, but what about Bobby? Well, truthfully, she couldn't blame him either, not knowing what she knew about him. His research, coupled with his tragic past with his wife had made the man naturally suspicious. He probably tested everyone, well, maybe not as intensively as he had tested her, but then again, she was in a league of her own in regard to her past. In any case, he had protected her in that hospital despite his reservations which he had kept well hidden and he had taken her in, but he hadn't done it blindly because he wasn't a fool and he wasn't a martyr. Besides, he also had to protect Sam and Dean. Bobby loved those boys like they were his and she knew he loved her too. When it was all said and done, that is what mattered. So, she couldn't blame him for his actions. Maybe what hurt was the way he had gone about it, so secretly.

But what had she expected? For him to ask for permission? Excuse me, Emily, allow me to pour some of this holy water on you, then marinate you with salt and gopher dust to see if you're a supernatural monster chick? Emily laughed. Yeah, she could see why the man had been so stealthy.

She found herself wondering about the holy water. The first day they met, he'd said Christo, and he had offered her coffee. Maybe the holy water was in the coffee. Yeah, but wouldn't the coffee nullify its effects? She would have to ask him. Her stomach began to grumble. "Let's go look for something to eat Rums!" she sprang up.

She had to go to a drive through because Rumsfeld would not be allowed inside restaurants. After the meal, she fully intended to return home and was even on her way back when she saw the sign. Mmmmm, archery. She could always try that, kill some time, see how different it was from shooting a gun, maybe acquire a new skill, never know. She turned off to the road where the sign pointed. The safety class was compulsory, after that she got a go at the targets. She was crap at archery but it was so much fun and she was so determined to get even a little better, that she did not notice the time until 7:30 p.m when the place was closing down for the day. She drove home with a huge smile on her face. Shooting calmed her down, even when it was bows and arrows. She got to the yard a little past eight.

Thank heavens her car, unlike the Impala, was quiet. She planned to slip quietly into the house, and sneak upstairs to her room. Then in the morning, she would go about her day like nothing had happened, like she hadn't acted like a child, running off because she was hurt.

Meh … should have known better with two hunters in the house. She was on the second step when John called out, "Emily, please come in here.'

He was in the study. Upstairs in his room, Bobby chuckled softly. What he would have given to see the look on her face.

Emily paused and considered her options. The request was polite, the voice soft, but it carried undertones that spoke of dire consequences if the request was ignored. So she walked reluctantly into the room. Wow, she was embarrassed but maybe if she kept up the angry act, she could salvage her pride.

She sat across from him, with a scowl on her face and her arms folded, the very picture of petulance. She studied him properly for the first time having been too wrought with emotion in the morning.

Well, he certainly was Sam and Dean's father. It wasn't like the boys were spitting images of him, no far from it, but if you took certain features of Dean's and melded them with some of Sam's then you'd have a nearly complete image of John's. Dean's face shape, his full lips and even the way his ears lay against his head came from his father. Sam had the eyes though his were hazel not brown like John's, he had the hair and his dimples though deeper were easily comparable to John's. Both boys had their father's jawline.

So this was the mighty John Winchester! Hunter extraordinaire! Father un-extraordinaire!

Yeah, she could sense the danger pouring from him, but his eyes were kind and sad and haunted. Without meaning to, she softened in empathy.

* * *

John smiled, the kid sure was light footed but he was a hunter. No way was she sneaking past him. He heard her pause when he called out to her, could imagine the shit-I'm-busted look on her face.

She practically stalked in. He got a jolt seeing her. He knew she was young, she was eighteen, but he had not expected her to look quite this young and delicate. The way she carried herself however hinted at an indomitable skeleton of steel.

She sat across from him, scowling ferociously. She was wary but not even a little afraid and John felt inexplicably proud of this still unknown daughter of his.

She was a beautiful child, and he wasn't just being biased. John was amazed she was his, even though looking at her, he could see she might be. She did have his eyes except hers were amber not brown and yes, she even had his thick eyebrows though hers were plucked and neat. When she spoke, there was a hint of a dimple in her left cheek, he couldn't be sure until she smiled which she did not look like she was going to do any time soon.

The angry act was good, he had to give her that. Someone else would have been fooled but not him, not now anyway. His sons complexities had opened his eyes. So instead, he read her eyes. Underneath the subtle sadness, that would fade from those eyes but never leave completely, was embarrassment! The kid was feeling embarrassed? He had to admit that was not the emotion he had been expecting. No, he had expected the pain and hurt he had seen before she had left in the morning, but apparently she had gotten over it and somehow convinced herself that being hurt was shameful. God, he didn't know whether to cry or pat her on the back.

It made him sad that his daughter had been dragged into this life and that he had had to question her humanity. It made him sadder still that she had quickly accepted why and even forgiven him for asking, that she felt ashamed for being offended and hurt by it, a reaction that in another life would have been justified.

Yet he was proud of her stoic acceptance of her new life and her adaptability and he was immensely proud of the steel core underneath that deceptively delicate shell.

Then he saw her soften in empathy as she looked at him and saw in his eyes what he never could verbalise and he was humbled. He, John Winchester, master of bullshit, hunter of monsters, was humbled by a kid, by her empathy, her magnanimity, her quick forgiveness and her understanding. He was humbled that she, like her two older brothers was still holding on to her humanity despite what she had learnt and was still learning about the evil in the world.

"You got quite the sneaking skills!" he found himself saying.

Not the smoothest opening he could have managed but it worked. Emily laughed! It was such a loud, happy laugh, he found himself smiling along with her.

Bobby who had been holding his breath waiting for the explosion he was sure was coming, could not believe his ears when he heard the bark of laughter. He wondered what John had said to Emily. He was glad they were getting along.

"Yeah, I'm awesome that way!" Emily quipped with a smile on her face.

John chortled, "So did you hone it sneaking out of the house to attend keggers or something?"

"Sneaking out was easy because I went out my window and down the trellis. The challenge was sneaking back in! I had to come in through the door and up the stairs. Problem was, my mom had ears like a bat and my dad set actual traps!"

"So you got caught?"

"Nearly always!"

"What did your parents do then?"

And so it went, he asked questions lightly, she answered just as flippantly with lots of laughter in between. They got through her childhood, then the teenage years and before she knew it, she was telling him about the last road trip she had taken with her parents, about orientation and then about her parents' deaths.

She had not really spoken of it, just mentioned it in passing to Bobby, and her brothers. Yet she found herself telling John; telling a man who had not even introduced himself formally to her, a man who even as they spoke amiably had not touched her; not shaken her hand or given her a pat. A man who was seated clear across the room. Maybe that is all she had needed all this time - a relatively detached person to talk to. He was like a shrink without being one.

When she began to cry, she saw him startle but he looked into her eyes and settled back in his place. He understood.

John wanted to go to his daughter and hold her, make the hurt go away, make the tears stop, but he realised she needed the distance. It was probably this distance that had even got her talking about how her world had collapsed that day in the dean's office.

He saw in her eyes that she did not want to be held, did not want to be comforted … at least not yet. And he respected that and understood it. He had fallen apart nearly a year after Mary's passing, in the gloomy privacy of a motel room with his friend Jack Daniels. He had left his babies with Pastor Jim. Emily was slightly different because unlike him, she was a tactile person so she couldn't fall apart while completely isolated but she still craved some form of privacy to do so. This moment here was the compromise between her two natures. So John sat back with a heavy heart and listened to her heart wrenching sobs. Watched as they shook her body violently. Watched as she folded in on herself.

* * *

John was right. Emily did not want to be comforted. She did not want him to hold her and tell her everything would be fine, because it would never fucking be. She cried for her parents, yes, but most of all, she was mourning for herself.

She had been thrust into this life and had accepted it without complaint, but she had not properly mourned her lost one. So she cried for the lost normalcy. For her lost confidence; she had always known who she was, what her place in the world was, but now she was lost. She was not sure who she was, heck she did not know what she was, or what she might become. She released the rage she felt at the unfairness of it all. What had she done to deserve this? She'd always been a good girl; fine, she didn't believe in God, but so what? She didn't disbelieve either! She released the guilt she felt at being the reason her grandfather, her biological mother, her parents and even random strangers had died.

She cried because of the decision she had made the day she had asked Bobby to train her. She was planning to leave as soon as Bobby declared she was trained enough. She loved him and her brothers with a fierceness that belied the length of time she had known them. She could not continue putting them in danger. Her parents had taught her that love was not selfish. She could live with a broken heart from leaving them but she could not live with knowing she might cause their deaths. Even though she was not yet gone from their lives, it hurt. She hoped when the time came, the boys would not be at Bobby's. It'd be easier for her then.

She cried because when she left, she would never have true companionship. She would never get close to anyone for fear of getting them hurt or killed. She was poison. She would never feel the safety of a father's arms ever again. Her parents were dead, she was going to leave Bobby, and she would obviously never get time to form a relationship with John. A man who understood her enough to know that she needed space and yet needed company, a man who understood her complexities.

When the tears finally stopped, she felt like the biggest cliché because she truly felt lighter and stronger. And for the first time in a long time, she did not feel ashamed for crying. She had earned the right to cry! She deserved the cleansing the tears provided.

A deep, easy silence followed and neither of them was inclined to break it. They understood each other implicitly. Someone walking in would see two strangers seated across the room from each other yet in that moment, John and Emily were as close as a father and daughter could be.

It was after nearly thirty minutes that the silence was broken, and surprisingly by John.

"Hey, why don't you come over here," he called out casually.

"What? Why?"

John squelched a laugh. The minute she had lifted her feet off the floor and folded her legs under her, he had known she was done with the distance and was now craving some human contact, but she was terrified of going over to him without an invitation, having probably heard about his aversion to such things from her brothers who had the knack to exaggerate theatrically.

She was like his Sammy. The boy lived for touch, but living with a father and brother who were less demonstrative had led to him being shy about his need. John was glad Emily had had seventeen plus years with parents who were expressive.

"I want to have a look at your arms," it was good an excuse as any.

She unfolded herself and walked over to him hitching up the long right sleeve of her T-shirt as she moved. Two weeks into her stay, she had gone out with Bobby and bought a dozen long sleeved T-shirts in various mostly dark colours … of course there was a yellow one and a purple one but Dean didn't need to know that! She had done this because every time Sam and Dean had looked at the bandages on her arms, they had looked angry and guilty. She knew they blamed themselves and her words of vindication were not helping change their mindsets. So now, she wore the T-shirts under everything. She even found that she liked the T-shirt, blazer, dress look and wondered why she had not done it earlier.

John took Emily's hand with his left. Bobby had told him that the right hand had had the shorter slash, but if this scar was this length, then the other must be fucking five feet long! He run his right forefinger along the length of the thin still red, raised scar and he felt rage he hadn't felt for 21 years.

"Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed in anger. Emily flinched, tore her hand away from John and backed off with a stricken look on her face. "No, I'm sorry not you. I mean the thing that did this to you. I promise I'm going to find it and kill it!" the anger was still evident in John's voice even though he was making a valiant effort to tamp it down. His intention to have Emily sit by his side all but forgotten.

"I'm sorry, I got you involved in this," Emily said softly taking in John's turmoil.

Her tone and the fact that she was apologising for something she had not had a hand in tugged at John's heart and softened his voice. "This is not your fault! No, something started this eighteen years ago, but I'm going to finish it. The same way I am going to avenge my wife's death."

"Umm," Emily began nervously, shifting from one foot to another, as she remembered what Sam had told her about John not liking to be contradicted. "Well, eer … we talked about it and we all came to the same conclusion. I don't think they're the same thing. I mean the thing that took you over and the one that took me over. It doesn't make sense. One wanted me … well, not me precisely but you get what I mean ... to be born and the other tried to kill me!"

She stood there waiting for the outburst but it didn't come. Truthfully, John hadn't really analysed the situation past the basic information he had. Until he walked into the house that morning, he hadn't thought about those four lost months in years, only to discover they had led to the existence of this child who by all intents and purposes was his and not supernaturally inclined. As he was digesting this, Bobby had informed him that some supernatural asshole had tried to kill the child. With his head still spinning, he had been handed the box of crazy. If he hadn't known what he knew about the supernatural, he would have thought that Celeste woman was 130 pounds of crazy.

So now he took a moment to consider what he knew and he realised the kid was right. It made no sense that whatever had wanted him to father her would turn around and try to kill her. So yeah, there must be two entities involved. Still, it could be one thing, maybe it wanted to kill Emily because she had not turned out to be what the thing had wanted or she was an unforeseen threat to it! He run a hand in his hair. Shit! So many possibilities. He disliked puzzles, but he really, really hated supernatural puzzles.

Emily watched John's face as he thought about what she had said. He was fascinating, this man. Intelligent and fast-thinking. She saw as he quickly reached the same conclusion they had, then saw him consider something else. Something that made him unhappy.

"What?" she asked, her brothers' warnings about questioning John already forgotten.

"Nothing," he said as taciturn as ever.

Emily stood there for a few minutes waiting to see if John would say anything else. But the man was lost somewhere else. She decided not to push her luck any further. "Okay, goodnight."

"Right, yeah, goodnight!" he replied distractedly.

She sighed theatrically as she left the room.

As she prepared for bed, she idly wondered what her brothers were doing.

* * *

In California, Sam lay on the bed thinking about the tape and listening to music on Emily's iPod. He had put it on shuffle so he could verify for himself just how expansive Emily's appreciation for music really was. In addition, he wanted to listen to songs like she would and he did not want to be biased by playing songs he already knew and loved.

He had to admit her method of trying everything at least once had merit when he found himself listening to 'My Kingdom for a car by some artist called Phil Ochs'. On another day because of its folksy tune, he wouldn't have given the song the time of day but tonight, he was on a mission. He wanted to see if he could figure out why Emily liked it. Instead the lyrics reminded him of his brother and not Emily.

"_I've found my freedom, her and I been flying down that highway of gold, my shirtsleeves are rolled, my Colt 45 is cold, I go fast, till I'm going faster_!" Dean sang with Phil's voice.

Sam began to smile. "_A car, a car, my kingdom for a car_!" Indeed, if Dean had ever had a kingdom, he would have given it up for that impala.

"_How I love the highway, picks me up and takes me wherever I please, I race through the trees bring space to her knees, I am master of all that's flying past me_." Now that line made him think. He loved the impala because it was the only real home they had. The only constant in their nomadic. He knew Dean loved it for the same reason, but was there another? So much about their life was uncertain, there was so much they couldn't control. Did Dean love that car and being on the road so much because it was one of the few things he could control? The only things he could be master over? Just that morning he had called his brother antisocial but he now understood that Dean did not form relationships with people because he was afraid they would leave him. Heck, Sam had and from the looks of things so had their dad!

"_Take me to tomorrow, let me go on racing with the wind in my hair, there's smoke in the air but I do not care, If you want me, you will have to pass me_."

"Good god, who was this Ochs guy?" Sam wondered.

Racing with the wind in my hair … yes their life gave an illusion of freedom, but there's smoke in the air ... danger followed them everywhere, so they run, and run, and tried to stay ahead of the monsters, the real ones, and the ones in their heads, and they prayed there would be another day after.

Sam looked over at his sleeping brother and wished he could lighten his burden. But Dean would never let him. He would have to take it from him by force.

He sighed. He really needed to go to sleep. As he turned to his side, something that had been niggling at him since he had seen the tape became clear. The doppelgänger whatever it was, had gone in but not come out! They would go check it out tomorrow. Great! Dean was going to gripe about the early morning.

Before he fell asleep, he said a prayer for his family. He knew he was the only one of them who would. He briefly wondered where his father was and what he was doing.


	23. Chapter 23

In Sioux Falls, John was thinking about his next move. He now had two quests. Find and destroy the thing that had killed his wife and the thing that had tried to kill his daughter. Mary was dead and nothing could bring her back but he could still protect Emily. Besides, in Emily's case, he had information to go on and he had made a list of people he would talk to. He might even get lucky and find a clue to Mary's killer.

He had read the letters from the beginning, to get a better feel for Celeste.

* * *

By all accounts she had been fine until he had walked into her life. She was very naive, having been sheltered from the world by a formidable mother. Cece Deco, the first name on John's list.

When Celeste had left home to look for him, no to look for Gale, she had no idea where she was going to go or what she was going to do. She just knew he had to have come from somewhere and she was going to find him. So maybe Emily's obstinance came from that side of her family. Nah, who was he kidding? The girl had his brand of bigheadedness. Who else would pretend to be mad just on principle?

Celeste had gone through so many little towns down south that they had blurred into each other. She worked in bars until she was too far along to be tolerated by bar patrons despite her looks, so she had found that job in that diner in Gentryville. Then John had entered her life again but of course it was really the first time for him but because of that brief meeting, she had lost her child, who had been adopted without her consent.

She began looking for her daughter as soon as she was sprung. She had had to get odd jobs to support herself and to pay for information and it had taken her almost six years to find the child.

She had settled down near Brisbane, to be close to her daughter, working at a local supermarket and frequenting the park where Emily's parents took her. She watched the child grow. A particular entry had made John laugh. Celeste had noted that Emily had a perfect combination of sweetness and spunk. The kid was always in dresses, loved sparkles and ribbons but loved playing in dirt, climbing trees and beating up boys whose company she always gravitated to. When women saw her walk or rather skip along holding her parents' hands, they went aaawww she's so angelic. A few hours later when they had to pick her off one of their sons, the same women, went what the hell? Whose devil child is this? Celeste had called Emily a girly tomboy. Until reading that letter, John had honestly had no idea such a thing existed.

Anyway Celeste settled and even found love with a man called Carl, having by then given up on John or Gale. They'd even tried to have children but it never happened. She never told Carl about Emily. "Talk about complete honesty in a relationship!" John had snorted. But who was he to judge when he had a niggling feeling Mary had not been completely truthful during their marriage.

Emily was thirteen and a couple of months when Celeste had first mentioned the supernatural. Of course at that point in time she had no idea it was supernatural and had not been scared, just weirded out. She had only written about it because it was the most interesting thing that had happened to her that day. By then she had been promoted, was an inventory clerk at the same supermarket. She'd been in the stores tracking supplies when one of her workmates walked in and told her you're not safe. She'd been surprised to say the least and had asked the woman what she meant. The woman had ignored the question and told Celeste to find Gregory Thornton. Celeste had asked who Gregory. The woman had instead turned and walked back to the supermarket floor. Later when Celeste had asked her about the incidence, the woman had feigned ignorance. John knew she hadn't been pretending.

The next incidence came weeks after and this one freaked her out enough to send her on another quest. She was in the park watching Emily play when a woman who had been completely engrossed in her book suddenly straightened as if jolted by electricity, stood up and walked over to Celeste. "You're not safe." Celeste had looked at the woman in shock and asked what she hadn't asked the first time. Who are you? I'm your father! It was very disconcerting to hear that coming from a female stranger's mouth. I can't protect you anymore, but I can warn you and point you to the person who can protect you. You need to find Gregory Thornton. Celeste had wondered whether she had fallen down a rabbit hole and just didn't know it. Who is he? Why am I not safe? Who is after me? Just find Gregory. How? But suddenly there was a very confused woman standing in front of her.

Celeste had immediately began looking for Gregory Thornton, using the usual methods, phonebooks and public records but the man did not exist.

She'd found him in Puyallup, Washington a few months later. She never said how in the letters but John suspected she had called or gone to her mother. It was the only logical deduction after all the man was her father's friend, so it was possible he had known her father's wife.

That is when the letters got more detailed about the supernatural. No wonder Emily and her parents before her, had been freaked out. John figured this Gregory guy was a hunter or a retired one at the very least or a damn good supernatural researcher.

Celeste's first concern was how her father had done what he had done. Gregory … not Greg, never Greg … told her that her father was dead. Carbon monoxide poisoning, ruled a suicide by the police. Gregory figured Chris had hang around because he wanted to warn his daughter and it had taken him a while to figure out how to possess a person. Gregory was so matter of fact and Celeste had experienced the two warnings so she had not questioned this explanation, only asking how her father's ghost had managed to find her. Gregory explained. Spirits are not held back by physical limitations but they are tied to places or things. He figured she had a piece of her father somewhere. It turned out the locket she wore, given to her by her mother, had a lock of hair from him. Celeste was averse to burning it at Gregory's suggestion, felt like she had just found her father and was now going to lose him. Gregory told her Chris was gone and if his spirit was left to wander the in between for long, it would become evil so the hair had been burnt.

John couldn't believe that the story got even more bizarre which was saying something considering his world. Gregory wasn't a hunter like John had speculated, no, he was an archivist; one of five. Three things set him apart from his fellow archivists, he read the collections, actually believed most of the things he read and he dabbled in astrology. Gregory's name went down on John's list. He wondered how he hadn't heard of the man until the letters, but then again, the man sounded like a hunter and hunters kept to themselves. He too had kept himself and his sons off the radar. He hoped the boys kept it that way. It was hard enough hunting without the law on your back.

So yeah, Gregory had read an ancient Greek text which, when all the unnecessary words had been filtered out, basically said, _'After the earth is torn apart by the war between the brothers, the balance descended from the rock and the trees will be the new protector of the peoples_.'

He had not thought much of it until he had read a text from the druids of Britannia that seemed similar if read in context. _'The child descended from the popes and the elves will return balance to the world after the end of days.'_ This from a people who at the time loathed the papacy!

He had found similar prophecies among the Romans and Egyptians. So because it was the most direct of all the prophecies, he began to research the popes. It hadn't taken him long to get the information, since he had access to an impressive amount of material. Pope Celestine VI, had fathered a child! It had taken Gregory an obscene amount of time to follow the illegitimate lineage until he had reached Chris Celestine. Physically finding Chris Celestine was not easy either, but Gregory was nothing if not tenacious.

Chris was relatively easy to convince and Gregory had easily understood why. The man had described the powers his wife had, and even though Gregory was not well read on elves, simply knew they were an ancient people who had learnt to communicate with nature, he had accepted the possibility of Gwen being an elf.

Here John had stopped to scoff at the absurdity of elves and to wonder who the hell Gwen was. That question went on his list.

Chris had gone on to tell Gregory that he did not know where his wife or child were. Gregory had been put out to say the least but he was willing to look for them. Chris had not been quite as ardent about finding them until it became apparent the 'balance' was in danger. Two of Chris' friends had been killed and the third who escaped had checked himself into a psychiatric hospital. He'd told Chris that they had been attacked by a man with all black eyes and superpowers. The evil superman had wanted to know where the balance was. The other two, a man and woman had professed their ignorance; they had no idea what he was talking about, and was he on drugs or something! The black-eyed man had snapped their necks without touching them. Fearing for his life, the third friend had promised he would lead the man to the balance. The man had let him go, not even asking for an address. He said he would find him in five days. He had checked himself in a church run psychiatric hospital and layered himself with rosaries and scapulars. Six days later, he was dead. He had apparently made a rope out of the scapulars and hang himself.

Now convinced and scared, Chris immediately set out to look for his wife and child. Gregory stayed behind researching, trying to understand why the 'balance' was in danger and how to protect him when Chris found him. Gregory did not know how close Chris got to finding either his wife or child before he died. The death however, turned out to be an unexpected benefit because as a spirit, Chris had been able to immediately latch onto his hair and locate his child, a daughter. That had completely thrown both men who had been expecting a male child. Unfortunately, even after locating her, it had taken Chris a few more months to figure out how to communicate with Celeste in his spirit form.

So, Celeste had ended up in Puyallup and in possession of any amulet, medallion and talisman Gregory could find. Surprisingly, the ring that Emily currently wore had been given to Celeste by Cece! Celeste had called her mother to tell her about the situation and a few weeks later, Cece had sent the ring. She had not explained where she got it, had simply told Celeste to wear it for protection.

Another reason for John to talk to Cece Deco.

Celeste never told Gregory about Emily, figured if no one knew about her, then she would be safe. She wrote to Carl and broke up with him. She settled in Puyallup, got a job and lived with Gregory, who was like the father Celeste had never had. It was evident from the way she wrote, that the two of them got on well.

During this time, she still wrote letters to Emily but sent them in batches, whenever she could get a moment away from Gregory.

Gregory on his part was still researching, trying to figure out who the two brothers who could be. He figured it was great that he was protecting the 'balance' but it would be more awesome if he found and took out the two 'destroyers'. That way, the destruction would never even happen. In essence, he would have saved the earth twice.

He researched passionately like before, but it was frustrating and he was not getting anywhere. Providence, luck, poor research skills, he could never say, but something made him return to the texts that had led him to the 'balance' in the first place. As he read sentences he had originally ignored, he realised Celeste could not be the 'balance' as she was the wrong age. From reading his astrology charts or crystal ball or whatever he did, Celeste had no idea what, he had realised the events were meant to happen within the next couple of years (apparently, the stars or the crystals, were not so specific about dates) and the 'balance' would have to be aged no more than twenty and five seasons! Celeste was much too old. Gregory told her this with sad resignation. He had wasted so much time protecting the wrong person. He knew he would not be able to find the 'balance' in time, and keep him safe. According to the ancient texts, the child was safe as long as the innocence of childhood was cloaking him. The cloak lifted on the sixteenth birthday. If it was not already too late, it soon would be.

Immediately, Celeste knew Emily was the balance. Without telling Gregory, she left and returned to Brisbane. Emily was five months from her sixteenth birthday.

She had sent Emily the ring and all the items she had got from Gregory who had felt so defeated, he had not wanted them back. Of course she had no way of knowing that Emily's parents kept everything from her. It was a simple stroke of luck that Emily even got the ring which her parents had fortunately given her on her sixteenth birthday.

Celeste watched her daughter even more carefully now, making sure she had the ring on at all times.

John found it remarkable that a teenage girl had worn the same piece of jewelry for nearly three years and never taken it off. He wondered what her adoptive mother had said to her to make her so attached to it. Whatever it was, must have been powerful. It kind of reminded him of Dean and his amulet that he had got from Sam.

Emily of course had gone about her life oblivious to the danger around her, wearing the ring probably because she thought it was cute. Celeste had remarked at the girl's resilience, how she managed to stay so normal knowing what she knew. She was still exuberant and gregarious, still treated everyone with kindness and respect, was not unreasonably wary of strangers and was not constantly on guard like Celeste.

John knew that was because Emily knew nothing. Ignorance was truly absolute bliss.

Celeste had ended up leaving Brisbane to protect Emily. She had received a call from Gregory, who had told her it was demons. They were after the 'balance' but he didn't know why. He had told her that they might come after her even though she was not the balance. He was glad she had all the protection items he had given her. Celeste did not correct him. Somehow Gregory stayed off the demons' radar for three months after that phone call. Celeste must have been starting to feel safe until she read about his suicide. He had jumped off a decidedly high building.

John crossed Gregory's name off the list.

Celeste left Brisbane immediately; moved to Fresno. She had found a convoluted way to keep sending the letters to Emily. She rented three post boxes and sent the letters from one to another to another and then to the Avis-Raines house. It was not fool proof, but John had to admit it was clever and it had seemed to work.

In the last letter she had written, she had told Emily to look for Gale Cursor or John Winchester. He might be able to protect her. She had explained that the ring would cease to protect her on her twenty-first birthday.

John sighed. "At least this quest has a deadline! No pressure!" he thought wryly. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, even though his brain was still spinning. His name was seriously cursed!

* * *

**Finally, the contents of the box come out. I figured John would be the best person to tackle this. He's the most driven. So what do you think?**


	24. Chapter 24

Emily's hunter phone … like Dean had called it ... rang as she was about to leave the room. She followed the instructions he had given.

"Hey!" she smiled.

"Hey!" Sam sounded just as happy. "Figured you'd be up."

"Yeah, was just about to head out for my run."

"So this is us checking in as promised. Dean and I are okay. Still trying to figure out what this is. You? Bobby?"

"Yeah, we're fine too. But uh listen your…."

She chuckled when she heard Dean grumble in the background, "Alright, so what are we doin' here at 5:30 in the morning?"

"I realized something. The videotape shows the killer going in, but not coming out!" she knew Sam had angled his head away to talk to Dean because his voice sounded less clear than before. "Hey, listen Rae, I'll call you back. We're at the scene and Dean is being a little whiny!" he said to her and hang up before she could get a word in.

She sighed. Tying her hair into a high ponytail she left the room and made her way downstairs.

John was in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew. He turned when she walked in, took in her outfit and she could tell he approved.

"Good morning," she greeted as she filled a water bottle at the sink.

"G'morning, going for a run I see."

"Yeah, it's part of my routine. You run?"

"Used to, now I only run when I'm being chased which happens quite often by the way."

Emily laughed. "Will you still be here when I return?"

"Yeah, sure, gotta use this chance to service the truck. I'll head out later in the evening."

"Okay, see you. Your truck is epic by the way!" she slipped out quickly. Rumsfeld followed her.

Bobby came down ten minutes later. The two men acknowledged each other gruffly. John idly wondered whether the man slept with that cap on. The thing was probably glued onto his head. He'd never seen him without it.

After Bobby had had a sip of his coffee, he asked the question they both knew he would.

"So what are you going to do?" He knew John had read all the letters.

"I'm taking the box. It's presence is like an ulcer to her though she will never admit that to anyone."

John was astute and despite what many thought of him, he was empathic, just didn't show it. He knew the revelations in those letters had messed with Emily's head, shaken her world and left her with a weak foundation. He did not know how true the 'balance' issue was, he hoped it wasn't, but even discounting it, everything Emily had known, had believed, and had been, before reading those letters had been turned inside out. She was probably uncertain about everything now, even her humanity. Besides, thinking you might have a predestined purpose would freak anyone out, let alone an eighteen year old girl who had probably never heard the word fate before. On top of all these worries, the attack in the garage had happened and further washed away what little inner strength she had held on to after reading the letters. He would talk to her, tell her not to worry about the letters or about her supposed destiny because of a little thing called free will and a big thing called Winchester bullheadedness. He would tell her she would be okay, because she had him, Dean, Sam and Bobby.

"Then, I'll go visit Cece Deco, drive over to Missouri's. I might swing by Jim's too. There are other stops I'm planning on making too."

"John, the most urgent task is figuring out what tried to kill Emily, find it and kill it. There's time enough to research elves and popes and the apocalypse and the importance of the balance. All that stuff could be phooey for all we know. The one thing we are certain of, is that something is after Emily."

"Bobby, I have to know if there is any truth to the rest. Bigger picture and all that. See where I fit in. When I finish this, I want it finished. I don't want to win a battle and discover there is a war."

Finally, there it was. Proof of what Bobby had always suspected. John was not just looking to avenge his wife. He wanted to know why. Why her? Why their family? He believed there was a reason to the events that had taken place in that nursery. Bobby on the other hand accepted that sometimes, it was shit luck, a case of wrong place, wrong time. There was no rhyme or reason to the things that happened. Karen had just been a convenient meat-suit, a victim. Bobby believed Mary had been a victim too and now so was Emily. His mission was to find out what and seek hunters on it. If as he tried to find what had killed Mary and what had nearly killed Emily, he found evidence proving there was a bigger reason behind the incidents, a conspiracy, a ploy, then he would follow it up, but right now, that was not his mission.

Both men understood the other's cause. For John, 'why' came first. For Bobby 'what' mattered more.

"Look after them," John told Bobby.

"Always." Bobby said simply.

That was enough for John.

* * *

When Emily finished her laps around the perimeter, John was servicing his truck. Bobby handed her a sandwich which she ate in five bites, then they headed out again and he gave her the '686.

"We're shooting again today but it's going to be different from yesterday." he announced with the kind of pomp she would never have associated with him or the yard or the activity at hand.

This time there were 12 pairs of bottles in a circle. While the two bottles that made the pair were very close to each other, there were a few yards separating each pair from the next. Bobby explained the exercise. It was about quick thinking, agility and speed and of course accuracy.

"If God forbid you end up on real hunt, I don't want you taking out the wrong party!"

He would call out a side and number and she would have to shoot the bottle that corresponded to the instructions. He would also randomly call out directions like drop, roll and duck.

"Got that?" he asked.

Emily's face was screwed up in concentration as she analysed and internalised the instructions. "Yeah, I think so."

"Okay, let's try it. Face your twelve." Emily got in place. Bobby moved away, he was not taking any chances. He grabbed his battered bullhorn. "Right, get ready." She cocked the gun. "Left - 5 o'clock!" he called out.

She spun clockwise, thinking as fast as she moved and shot the left bottle of the pair, clipped it actually, but didn't have time to berate herself as Bobby was already calling out, left - 7 o'clock. She had to calculate quickly. It would be faster to spin anti-clockwise this time, to get to seven which was actually five to the left and her beginning twelve! She shot the left bottle, got it right in the center. Drop! She dropped onto her stomach. Right - ten o'clock. She rolled onto her back, raised her head and shoulders and swung left to shoot the target. She had just gotten out of the roll and into a crouch when Bobby bellowed out the next instruction, left, 5 o'clock. Anyone else would have thought damn, I already hit that! But she knew, that the pointers were relative to her current position, not the original, so left, 5 o'clock from the position she was in now was actually her beginning 3 o'clock. She got out of the crouch as she spun right and shot the bottle only she clipped both bottles. Left, right, 8 o'clock.

Good Pythagoras! Bobby was not letting up. This was bloody hard! Bearings, projectiles, speed - that was math! Movement, stability, relative position, speed, recoil - that was physics! Listening for instructions while the last gunshot was still echoing in her ears - that was a miracle! Keeping hold of the gun as she dropped, ignoring the jarring of her bones - that was a bloody mystery! But Emily had never felt more exhilarated!

John who had been drawn by the gun fire and bullhorn enhanced yells was standing by Bobby watching her with a thunderous frown on his face. Bobby ignored him until he was ready. He told Emily to clean up, then he turned to John, matched the frown and bellowed, "What?"

John opened his mouth a couple of times before he could speak. "What the hell is this?" he waved his arms to encompass the shooting area.

"What does it look like?" Bobby was not intimidated.

John was red in the face, Bobby knew he was going to explode with anger and he was not disappointed. "It looks like you're teaching my daughter how to shoot!"

"Your daughter already knows how shoot! And she's not half bad. This is simply honing her skills! Thought you of all people would approve!"

"Approve? She's just a kid!"

"She's eighteen, John. Sam and Dean were much younger if I recall correctly!"

"This is different! She's different!"

"Why? Because she's a girl?"

"No!" John stopped. Fuck, yes! Yes, because she was a girl. He had no better reason than that. He wasn't being a chauvinistic bastard. Heck, he had even considered teaching her how to shoot, but only so she could shoot the balls off any guy who approached her. He also knew there were female hunters, and they were badass too, and he respected them, but dammit, this was his daughter. Fathers protected their daughters! Yet, wasn't this the same reason he had used to justify training his sons so hard? For protection? Okay, so maybe in Emily's case, protected was the wrong word, the word he was looking for was sheltered. He should shelter her from harm. But he knew it was too late to shelter Emily, the life had sucked her in and not teaching her how to protect herself just made him a worse father than he already was.

So he took a deep calming breath and spoke grudgingly but truthfully, "Thanks, for getting her started, we both know I wouldn't have been able to do it."

"Actually, her mother got her started, like I said, I'm simply honing!"

Emily disposed of the broken glass and walked over to the two men. She hadn't heard what had been said between the two of them but she knew John had not been happy. He still wasn't happy, but he was not looking like a raging bull anymore. Still, she held her breath as she reached them.

"So?" she asked Bobby. She was her own worst critic so she had already graded herself, but he was her teacher after all.

It was John who answered, "You definitely clipped a good guy, most likely killed another and totally missed one bad guy. Also, you dropped awkwardly…"

The rest of the conversation was lost on Bobby as John led Emily back to the shooting area. He watched John interact with his daughter in the one way the man was comfortable with, and smiled. It was not ideal, but he would take it. Besides, he knew the two of them had talked some, last night. He went back into the house.

* * *

John showed Emily how to drop without jarring her bones too much and how to get out of the drop swiftly. He did not have much quarrel with her accuracy and speed. She was a really good shot and was agile and light footed. But he had to impress on her the fact that in real life, the targets would be moving very fast, either towards her or other people and they would be a million times more dangerous than beer bottles. Then he had her repeat the exercise.

In the house, Bobby shook his head. A few minutes ago the man had been against the very idea of teaching the girl and now he was bellowing like a drill sergeant. Might as well go check on John's truck for him. The man had definitely forgotten about it.

The two came in nearly two hours after he'd finished with the truck. They were both sweaty, covered in dust and a little bruised, but they were smiling, eyes twinkling, happy and comfortable in each other's company. John looked young when he smiled. Bobby watched them fondly, thinking how much of John was in all his children. The man had been handed a crap hand, but he was playing as best as he could. John was stubborn and infuriating and he sometimes came off as arrogant, and unfeeling, but he was loyal, dependable and compassionate. He was a good man when all was said and done.

* * *

John left immediately after dinner. Emily walked him out and Bobby was not proud, but he spied on the goodbye between John and Emily. After John tossed his two duffels in the back of the truck, he turned to Emily who was hovering close to him. To Bobby's astonishment, John reached out, brushed a hand on and over Emily's head, then with both hands at the side of her head, he drew her closer to him and bending slightly, he touched his head to her forehead for a long moment. Seriously, if Bobby had not witnessed it, he would not have believed it. When John stepped back, he said something to which Emily laughingly replied, causing John to bark out a laugh. When he got into the truck, Emily reached in through the open window and gave him a quick and most likely spontaneous peck on his cheek. John turned, and for an endless moment, the two of them looked at each other, then John's hand snaked out through the window and he gave Emily's neck a shake, tender and rough at the same time. She smiled, stepped away and crossed her arms, and silently watched him drive away. John looked back once, and nodded slightly before he was gone from view. Neither one waved as the truck drove out of the yard.

Bobby had to clear his throat. God these Winchesters were something else!

* * *

Emily stood there for a long time before she dropped her arms, squared her shoulders and walked back to the house.

Before he'd touched his forehead to hers, John had said to Emily, "Remember, you'll be okay," and when his forehead had touched her forehead, she had felt like he was fortifying her shaken but still stubbornly erect foundations with love and his own strength and courage.

When he'd stepped away, he had deflected like she had expected. "I'm glad I have at least one kid who can carry a tune!" he'd joked.

"Dean and Sam can carry a tune, it's just that they prefer to toss it in the air and shoot it dead!" she had quipped back.

He had laughed and stepped into the truck. Watching the man who had given her life, whose blood run in her veins, whose steel backbone she had inherited, the man who profoundly understood her even though they'd only spent one evening and one day together, Emily had felt a surge of pure affection. She did not over-think the emotion, just gave in to it, by giving him that kiss on his cheek.

He'd turned to her with a stunned but pleased and touched look on his face and held her eyes with his. In that gaze, he had communicated his love, his immense pride and his regret for the lost years and the too little time they had had and she had conveyed her love, her faith in him and her understanding.

When Emily walked back into the house, Bobby noticed the difference immediately. She had been strong before, no doubt about that, but it had been just a physical strength, fragile and uncertain, but now, that strength was unshakeable because it was backed with faith; faith in herself and those she loved. This was the strength that really mattered, strength beyond the physical. This was the kind of strength Dean and Sam had in spades.

Now, Emily was truly a Winchester. John really knew how to make them!


	25. Chapter 25

"I liked that gun!" Dean was pissed about having to leave the gun he had shot the shape shifter with. The only plausible way for Rebecca, who owned no guns, to explain to the police how she had killed her attacker was for her to say he had brought the gun with him and she had somehow gotten it away from him and shot him with it. So Dean had had to leave it at the scene.

Sam who was lying on his bed with an icepack on his face and three icepacks on his body ignored his brother. He couldn't care less about the stupid gun because he couldn't get past the fact that Dean now had a police record even though it recorded him as deceased. Besides, he was aching, and he was tired but he could find no respite. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw one of three images of Dean. He did not know which one freaked him out more, the Dean who had been strangling him, intent on killing him, or the dead Dean with his sightless eyes staring at him, or the real Dean who had had an unreadable look on his face that for a moment Sam had worried that the wrong Dean had been killed.

Yet, the longer he stayed awake, the deeper he thought about the things the shape shifter had said. Were they true or was the thing just messing with him? Did Dean really resent him? He wished his brother would just talk to him, but getting Dean to talk required one hell of a magic trick and Sam was certainly not a magician. He was tired of hitting his head against the brick wall that was his brother. Sam acknowledged the fact that he too deflected and diverted, but at least when it counted, he bared his heart, even though Dean called him girly and Samantha for it. It was either that or explode. He wondered how Dean managed to reign in everything.

He needed a distraction, and from the huffs he could hear coming from Dean, so did his brother. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and called Emily. He put the phone on speaker as it rang the third time.

When she finally answered, her voice was enough to bring a smile to his face and make Dean bound over from his bed to Sam's. Sam groaned as the bed's bouncing jarred his body.

"Are you hurt?" Emily called out. The worry evident in her voice. They were hunters and she knew hunts were dangerous that people got hurt, even killed, but her brothers seemed invincible and even though she knew they were not, reality was yet to shatter imagination. Frankly, she hoped it never did.

"We're okay." Sam was quick to answer. Dean began to object but the icy stare Sam sent his way made him reconsider what he was going to say.

"Yeah, we're peachy. We took down the shape shifter." Now it was his turn to glare at Sam, daring him to tell Emily about whose shape the shifter had been when it died.

Sam took the hint. "So what about you? How's your day been?"

A deep silence followed the question.

"Rae?" both boys were concerned. "Did something happen? Are you okay? Is it Bobby?"

Emily sighed, "No, we're both fine. It's just that … well, your dad was here. He…"

"What? When did he come? Is he still there?" Sam exploded, sitting up right, the aches forgotten.

"He came yesterday, in the morning, just after I'd finished training. He..."

"That was two days after we left!" Dean was incredulous. The timing was just unbelievable.

"I know," Emily said softly. Dean sounded shell shocked and she could not blame him. She knew he had tried so many times to get in touch with John, had needed his father when things were shot to hell. Had needed him when Sam was distraught and hell bent on revenge, when they'd found out about her, when they'd lied to her and later when she had been hurt. He had needed his father's strength and guidance, but John had never answered. Then he turns up at the yard only a couple of days after their departure, after they'd been at the yard for months!

"What did he want?" Dean continued. He had heard the tense Emily had used, even though Sam hadn't. At his question, Sam sucked in a breath, as he too realised Emily had said 'was' and not 'is.'

Emily did not know why John had been there. He must have told Bobby. She was not egotistic to think he had come for her, after all, he had not even known about her existence until Bobby had told him. She had come downstairs in time to hear his question and Bobby's answer, and later in the evening when she had returned, they had talked about her and the next day, they had trained and talked some more but this time about the box and letters. Then he had left but not before anchoring her, probably the way his sons needed him to. So she answered truthfully, "I do not know!"

Stunned silence met her response. All three of them wondering the same thing. What the logic behind John's actions was.

Dean recovered first, hiding his turmoil for his siblings sakes. "So what did you think of the old man? Did you deck him?"

Emily snorted a surprised laugh. "He wasn't too bad!" In fact, she had found him intriguing. He was uncommunicative yet friendly, distant yet sympathetic, concerned, yet aloof. He loved his sons and yet he did not really know them, he was willing to learn about Emily, but was not willing to share himself.

"Then clearly he was not around long enough!" Sam recovered and snickered.

Dean sighed with relief. He had saved the day as usual.

"Maybe, but guess what? I managed to drop him during training!"

"Really?" Both boys were incredulous.

"Yes really! Only he recovered quickly and brought me down and pinned me!"

The boys laughed uproariously before the implication clicked in Dean's mind, "Wait, you trained with him? He was not mad that you were training at all?"

"I'm not sure, but I think he was. He and Bobby had words. I didn't hear what was said, but he looked like an avenging Titan for a few minutes there. So when are you guys coming back?"

"We'll head out at first light tomorrow. Hopefully we won't find any cases on the way over." Dean said.

Sam and Emily snorted, Dean's idea of first light was so different from theirs. If given a chance, he would drag himself out of his bed at 11 a.m, even later!

They talked inconsequentially for another twenty minutes before signing off.

* * *

Unfortunately, it would be weeks before Sam and Dean would get back to the yard as the cases kept coming. Despite their burning need to return to their sister and Bobby, the boys could not ignore the cases. When it was all said and done, they were their father's sons. However, they kept in touch with Emily, giving her glossed over accounts of their hunts.

On their part, Emily and Bobby settled into a comfortable routine as they waited. They continued with the training and their research, frustrating though it was. Bobby was planning on starting the next phase of the training. The hardest phase as far as he was concerned. Field first aid. They had tried bowhunting and Emily had gotten as good as she was ever going to get, which was not saying she was good. She could just about shoot the arrow straight, is all. She found the crossbow so cumbersome and could not move it fast or accurately. Bobby told her not to sweat it. Chances of having a crossbow out in the field were extremely low anyway.

John as usual could not be reached by anyone and it annoyed them to no end. Sam huffed about it every chance he got and even Dean was not as forgiving as he had been before.


	26. Chapter 26

While his sons were solving cases, John was after information. Like planned, he had headed to Eros to speak with Cece Deco. He found the woman just as impressive as his sons had, which was saying something because he was not easily impressed. Armed with the information from the letters and what his sons, Emily and Bobby had told him, he had different questions.

Cece greeted him by name but unlike Missouri had twenty-one years back, she did not say she had been expecting him, which he found refreshing.

"You know why I'm here, right?" he tested the waters.

"I do not read minds, John. I see events that happened and I can feel a person's soul. I do not see auras or the future or such things. I wish I did as that seems more useful, but I don't. If you want to know something, you have to ask me."

"Ok, fair enough. Let's start from the beginning. What's your real name?" It was a throw away question that John had not expected to be answered but it was, and it set the ball rolling.

"My real name is Cece Deco, my original name was Gwen Decorso."

"Why did you change it?" This was really none of his business and not the reason he was here, but it seemed like the logical question to follow the answer she had given.

Cece sighed, already bored by the pussyfooting John was uncharacteristically doing. "I know what you are, John. I knew a man like you once, my husband … he was a hunter. Hunters are the reason I changed my name, left my home."

"Really? Did your husband try to kill you? Is it because he thought you were an elf. Are you an elf?" The real John was back!

"Well … yes, I am an elf! Depending on who you ask, I might even be a fairy!"

Probably for the first time in his life, John was thrown. He looked at the woman sure she was having him on and the smile twitching on her lips at the moment reinforced the feeling that she was laughing at him. With her face softened by laughter, John could see a little of Emily in her now.

"Are you one of those people who think elves are these ethereal blond people with pointed ears? You did not strike me as the sort! Good grief, this is all Tolkien's fault!" She chuckled appreciatively for a few more minutes then settled into her tale. "Contrary to belief, elves are simply people. We have no mythical powers, well, most of us don't. My gift has nothing to do with my being an elf, but I'll get to that."

If the woman had not been talking so matter-of-factedly, John would have written her off as a basket-case and left.

"Okay, so … technically, elves do not exist, at least not the supernatural elves you've come to know from lore. Elves, contrary to belief were simply a group of nature-purists who shunned living in settled communities choosing instead to live in the forests. The people in these settled communities of course found it strange, as you are familiar with the saying people mistrust what they do not understand. The elf legend was started as a way of parents in settled communities to scare their children into submission. If you've read anything before Tolkien's books, you'll realise that at first, all elves were malevolent, they were responsible for misfortune and illness and all sorts of terrible things but over time the stories evolved with the fair being the light elves, the good ones while the less fair became the dark elves, the evil ones! All elves were given abilities of course. Now these abilities given to elves were not pulled out of a hat, there were and are beings out there with those powers, for example the ability to walk through walls came from spirits and a number of other beings, the propensity to throw things and cause chaos is from poltergeists, the luring and killing of young men might have come from huldra or mermaids or succubus, I don't know."

"So you're saying elves technically don't exist but people mistakenly called elves do? That they are simply normal people, not supernatural, not magical and their supposed abilities are actually a mash-up of other beings' abilities?"

"Pretty much. About the only truth there is to elves is their love and respect for nature and possibly their archery skill!" she smiled at her little joke, then added, "No elf was ever supernatural, none ever had any powers."

"But you do!"

"Yes, not because I'm an elf, but because I come from a line of clairvoyants!"

"So your husband was right to call you an elf, but not for the reason he did."

"Yes, he thought I was psychic because I am an elf, but really I'm a human who people might call an elf who happens to be a psychic."

"So Emily is really completely human?"

"Did you doubt?"

"Truthfully? I wasn't sure what to think. You know she's supposed to be the balance?"

"Yes, I know, and I know the balance is human because the earth rightfully belongs to us. Do you know why the demons won't kill her outright?"

John knew Emily was in danger but he did not know why. His heart skipped a couple of beats. He shook his head, his throat suddenly too dry for speech.

"Suicide is a one way ticket to hell. Once in hell, a human soul can be broken and over time can become a demon!'

"Are you saying demons were once human?"

"Not all demons, but many of them were, yes!"

"Shit!"

"Language!"

"I think I'm entitled to a little swearing, my daughter could be killed and turned into a demon!"

"She's my granddaughter! You don't see me fouling the air with my words."

"Well, to each his own!" John run his hands through his hair in a manner his sons had inherited. He took a deep breath before asking, "Do you know which demon exactly? We can't seem to figure it out. When she described the attack, it did not sound like any demon we've met before."

"She got attacked? Is she okay? How come the ring didn't work?" finally he had managed to crack her composure.

"The ring works, but she had taken it off. She's a kid and she was tired of what she believed was nonsense and I don't blame her, seeing as you, her grandmother sent her away when she came to you!" John looked accusingly at the woman who looked duly chastened. "She's okay now, a neighbour, came to her aid, saved her life. It was close … too close." John closed his eyes when he remembered the scar. "Now, we're all trying to figure out which demon it was. Do you know?"

"No, I just know what Celeste told me before she died."

John felt like punching the wall. Okay, this was a dead end, Cece couldn't help him or Emily. He did not really need anything else from her, but this woman was his daughter's grandmother so it couldn't hurt to know her a little more, besides having another psychic friend couldn't be a bad thing.

"Okay, back to where we started, how did hunters lead to you changing your name?" he asked barely keeping a long suffering sigh from escaping him.

"Now that is a long tale!" Cece said with undisguised glee. She knew he was asking to be polite, but she could not help herself.

* * *

Gwen Decorso was born in Pennsylvania. She could just barely trace her paternal lineage back to the Q'eak, the elves of Scandinavia, but she could accurately trace her maternal lineage right down to Hatshepsut one of the few female Pharaohs of Egypt.

John had wanted to snort a 'yeah right!' at this, but he caught himself in time.

Cece's clairvoyance came from her mother's side. The gift was apparently passed down from mother to daughter at the death of the mother.

John had stopped her right there with a loud exclamation.

She had reiterated, then explained she had lost her mother and had come into her powers when she was eleven years old.

"So when you told my sons that your daughter did not inherit the gift, you forgot to mention that it was only because you were not dead. So what happens if you bite it? Does Emily become a psychic?" John knew he was being insensitive but this was his daughter they were talking about.

"I don't know. This is unprecedented. Maybe it'll die with me. I hope it dies with me. People who know about it, about me, call it a gift, but it's barely that. It's inconveniencing and debilitating. I'm a recluse because of this gift! I hate shaking hands and I hate standing in a crowd, but not as much as I hate looking people in the eye. Imagine how much that endears me to them! Most think I'm shady or creepy!"

Duly chastened, John let her continue with her story.

Cece had not taken the emergence of the gift very well, being so young and grief stricken and had made a vow never to marry or have children. She nearly made good on that promise because she never looked at a man until Chris Celestine entered her life twenty seven years later. Not only was he six years younger than her, he was suave and smooth talking and a big snob. He was a lot of things she disliked in a man, but Gwen fell in love with him because despite his faults, he was a good man, a kind man.

However, as is the norm in the respective worlds of hunters and psychics, neither told the other all details of their lives. So it came as a shock for Chris to discover the woman he loved was a psychic and Gwen couldn't believe Chris was a hunter. She was not afraid of hunters as a group because many hunters, like Chris and John, were good people, they only hunted evil supernatural beings. However, there were those hunters that killed anyone and anything they could not explain away logically. Those hunters that were worse than what they hunted. She had even heard of these men killing people who practiced Wicca! It would have been laughable if it was not so tragic, because Wicca practitioners even those who went darkside, were such lightweights in the witchcraft stakes. She knew very powerful witches who were benevolent, she had even heard of a colony of vampires that did not hurt humans, heck, banshees were just death omens and did not kill anyone, but good luck explaining that to such hunters. She knew her powers, passive and downright useless and bothersome as they were, would make her a target of these hunters.

Chris didn't care, he was determined to keep Gwen by his side, until he found out she was pregnant. That changed everything. Both of them decided she had to leave for her own protection.

She fled to Louisiana, to Eros. Along the way, she changed her name to Cece, her husband's initials and shortened Decorso to Deco.

Celeste never knew her father but she was like him in so many ways. She looked like her mother and loved the outdoors and music, but that was about it. Everything else, she got from her father, his high-spiritedness, his fortitude, his ability to fill a room with his personality and his determination.

Cece had guarded her daughter fiercely, had spent half her life protecting her from the world while trying to find a way to keep her from ever inheriting the clairvoyance. It had all been for nothing because unfortunately, Gale Cursor had come into their lives.

John knew the rest.

"Where did the ring come from? How does it work?"

"The ring was made by two extremely powerful witches, friends of mine and was blessed by a kahuna who owed me a favour."

"Is it possible to get another one?"

"No, the kahuna died of old age last year and one of the witches was killed by hunters a couple of months later," she spoke accusatorially.

John ignored her tone, he had children to protect, he could not go into the shaky ethics of hunting. "How does it work exactly? How does it protect her?"

"It cloaks her more than it actively protects her."

"Cloaks? Is she somehow invisible to supernatural things?"

"Invisible? No! She just can't be found using supernatural means like scrying. However, if she's personally in the presence of a supernatural thing, it will be able to see her and trust me, it will be able to attack her. After all, most of them use powers that don't require contact."

Cece went quiet as something else occurred to her. What if she had not been able to get close to Emily because of the ring? It was possible her friends had amped up the ring's power and just forgotten to tell her about it. Maybe the ring had protection power after all. If it did, then it was certainly strong enough to keep away psychics, maybe it could keep away lower level beings. She could only hope, but she was not optimistic about it keeping away demons.

John was beginning to get a headache. Great! Just great! The ring was not a hundred percent demon proof! Yet his children and Bobby thought it was. Couldn't a Winchester ever catch a break!

This meeting needed to end now. He was tired.

As he started to excuse himself, Cece stopped him. "I know you came here for Emily, but there is something you need to know about your son, Sam."

"What?" he snapped. It was fine for her to know about Emily since she was her granddaughter, but she had no right to know a thing about Sam. He knew he was being reasonable. Through Emily, this woman was somehow now related to him and his sons.

"He doesn't remember it because he was so little, but I saw it because it happened, whether he remembers it or not. John, whatever killed your wife, bled into your son's mouth. He ingested it's blood."

John had not understand how the world was still the same after that disclosure; the building was still standing, the sun was still shining outside, everything was the same. Everything but him.

"What does that mean?" he asked in a shell-shocked voice.

"I'm sorry, I don't know. I never told him. He struck me as a very sensitive boy. I didn't want to tell you either, but I had to, because he's your son and you care about him. You care about them all."

* * *

John was not sure how he left, and got in his car, how he managed to drive without hitting anyone or anything. He conceived all sorts of explanations for what Cece had seen but all seemed ridiculous or self deceiving.

His visit with Missouri coincided with his sons' case in the first and last real Winchester home, back in Kansas. He was in Missouri's house when the boys visited her and when he learnt that Sam was having dreams that turned out to be premonitions, he had been worried by the implications. Without being told, he knew it had something to do with the events that had taken place in that nursery. Missouri had been just as concerned but she did not have any information, so she had pointed him in the direction of someone else.

* * *

Peter Dennen was the first to realise that there had been incidences similar to what had happened to his family and he had set out to prove his theory, but he had failed to find the Winchesters because they had moved, the Millers would not talk to him, and the Wilson's had called him crazy when he said there had been a man in his daughter's nursery. He had eventually convinced himself he had been seeing things and that the other incidences were coincidences and had gone on to have a normal life with his daughter. A month ago he had come home to find his two dogs dead and Lily crying and packing a backpack in her room. She'd skirted around him when he entered the room and begged him not to touch her. She had told him that she had killed the dogs just by touching them. She said she was poisonous, and asked him not to look for her. Then she had left and he hadn't seen her since. The police were not really invested in looking for her because she was a runaway. Peter told John that Lily had been born in 1983 and that the fire that had killed her mother had happened on her six month birthday.

So now John knew there were other children, but what was their purpose?

* * *

The day he found out, he wished he hadn't.

He sat in the motel room in darkness. It had been light out when he had stumbled into the room in shock from what he had learnt and what he had done to find out.

When he'd found out from Cece that the bastard that had killed his wife had also tainted his son, John had been outraged and shocked. When he was at Missouri's and learnt that Sam had premonition dreams he had been worried by the implications. When Peter had told him about the other children, and his daughter's freaky scary ability, John had realised there was a bigger plan that involved other children besides his son. However, the fact that it involved his son at all had simply angered him beyond belief.

Now, he knew what the plan was and truth be told, he was scared, heck he was terrified. He had trapped a lower level demon in a warehouse and he was not proud to admit he tortured it to get the information. The demon had sang like … well a fucking canary.

John had tried to restrict the damage to only the demon, he had tried to hurt just it and not the twenty something man it was possessing, but the kid had still died when John finally exorcised him. Even though he had not known him, John had given the kid a hunter's funeral. His family if he had one, would never know what had happened to him. John hoped his own children were okay.

He had gotten into his truck and driven to the motel. He had enough presence of mind to salt the door and the windows, then he had gotten onto his bed and gotten lost in thoughts.

Knowing that Azazel, that yellow-eyed bastard demon planned for his baby boy, his last gift from Mary, to be part of an evil army during the apocalypse made John's blood boil. Made his need for revenge greater. He wondered why Azazel had even chosen Sam. He was the only Winchester as far as John knew, who prayed, who believed in God. Was it the demon's need for perversion of good that had led him to Sam?

Knowing that trigger happy hunters would execute gentle, emphatic, do-good Sam without any qualms if they found out about these plans froze John's heart. He knew his son would never become evil and Dean and even Emily would never let him, but these hunters wouldn't care. They'd just kill them all.

Well, John needed a plan. First, he needed to do damage control; he had to find out if there was anyone else besides him, who knew. He didn't think there were many since as a general rule, hunters exorcised demons without asking for information first, but if he had done it, chances were someone else might. Besides, demons hated being sent back to hell, some would talk without being asked so they could be spared. So John had to know who might have this information, gauge their threat level to his children and eliminate the threat. He did not kill humans on principle, but he'd been a soldier before he was a hunter and sometimes, you did what you had to. These were his children he was protecting.

He also needed to destroy Emily's letters. Just to be on the safe side.

Then he needed to check out the authenticity of the colt legend; Samuel Colt's gun that was believed to be capable of killing anything. John hoped it was true and if it was, he needed to find that gun.

Which brought him to the last task. He had to find that yellow-eyed son of a bitch, now that he knew who and what he was. Azazel, hell's Commander-in-chief while Lucifer was locked away. When John found the bastard, he was going to kill him, not exorcise him and send him back to hell, but kill him. That way, Lucifer's plan would be thwarted, and John would not only have avenged Mary's death, he would have brought redemption for his children, saved them all from their destinies. Sam would never even need to know what his destiny had been.

* * *

**A/N: Forgive the filler chapter. I couldn't cut it, since it's a way to keep track of everyone especially the elusive John. The boys are currently experiencing the hunts seen in season one, which I didn't want to rewrite or detract from. I also wanted to explore what John might have been doing during this time.**


	27. Chapter 27

Destiny was the last thing on Emily's mind. She was enjoying the freedom that came with safety, security and familiarity. While she still had intentions to leave, the day was yet to come. She kept telling herself it was because training was not over, which was true, Bobby had not decreed the exercise over, but it was not like she was pushing for it anyway. It had been days since Bobby had introduced anything new in her training regime.

She was currently checking out Benson's flea market. It felt amazingly good to do something so normal, to be just another face in a crowd, not worrying that there was a supernatural contract out on her head. She had bought a few things for herself, her brothers and Bobby. Many were whimsical and wacky, but a few were practical. She was looking over a group of colourful scarves when her phone rang.

Five minutes later, she hang up with a giddy smile. Talking to her brothers always made her happy, but this time she was ecstatic because they had sworn they were coming home. They had finished a job in Rockford Illinois and were determined to come to the yard. They were going to hustle some pool then find a motel and crash because they hadn't slept the previous night, but as soon as they were rested enough, they would drive over. Screw any jobs that came up. Dean had promised he wouldn't even pick up a paper.

She had heard underlying stress in both boys' voices but both had denied there being any tension. Knowing them, if she pushed now, they would retreat, so she didn't.

Two hours later, her phone rang again. It was Bobby.

"Hey!"

"Well, you're in a good mood!"

"Sam and Dean called. They'll be driving over this evening!"

"That's great. Listen, I got a call from Steve, says there's something snatching up campers in Rum River, Minnesota. Says it's a wendigo. I'm going to head out in a couple of hours. I need you to come home, so we can go over things."

"Oh, okay."

She hang up. She was not foolish to think that when he said 'go over things' he meant taking her with him. No, he probably meant he would show her how to use the panic room … eye-roll … AGAIN, he would ask her to keep her gun with her at all times, and take it everywhere even the bathroom, he would make a list of who to call if anything happened and an even longer list of what to tell anyone who came to the yard in his absence. So on the drive to the yard, she thought up arguments she could use to persuade him to take her with him. She knew it was a waste of time, but she had to try. She was not called relentless for nothing!

Bobby of course was immune to all her arguments. They'd been around each other long enough for him to get a small amount of immunity to her bag of tricks, and learn how to counter any argument she threw at him. With a sigh, she gave up and listened to his instructions with half an ear.

Two hours later, he left.

"So what now?" she asked Rumsfeld. The dog stared at her. She had the house to herself. She turned on the stereo in the den for company. The stereo was a new addition. She'd gone out and bought it one day. Bobby had disapproved of it.

"How are we supposed to hear an intruder with that thing blasting in the background?" he'd asked gruffly.

"Who said anything about blasting anything. I just want it to provide background sound!" she had explained. "Besides, it's in the den. When Sam and Dean were here, the TV in there was never on low, and, if you're in the study or kitchen, you can hear any intruder and you're always in the study or the kitchen!" that was not really true, but Bobby did favour those two rooms when he was in the house.

It had been days before he had accepted the stereo was not going anywhere. Now, on occasion, he turned it on himself, the volume low and soothing. She'd even heard him humming along to a few songs.

Singing along to the music, she wandered into the kitchen and wandered out just as quickly. She couldn't be bothered to cook. Cooking for one was tedious, using all those dishes and utensils to cook for only herself, meh, pass ... besides she was not hungry, at least not yet. She tried to write some songs but her brain was stuck, the internet held her interest for about thirty minutes, she tried to watch TV, but even that was boring with no one to exchange derisive commentary with. She had not realised how much she had become accustomed to having company, even though Bobby was quiet and she entertained herself most times anyway.

She could always throw a kegger! Now that was an idea! She snickered at the thought. She had lost contact with her old friends, and even if she hadn't, she could just imagine the looks on their faces if they saw this place with it's devil traps and sigils everywhere. She checked her watch. Damn, only an hour and twenty minutes had passed. It was about a four hour drive to Rum River, give or take a few minutes, so Bobby wasn't even there yet. She wondered stupidly whether Rum River was made of rum!

She hoped Bobby would be okay. He'd said he'd hunted a wendigo before. He'd said it was just a matter of protecting himself inside a circle drawn with Anasazi symbols and waiting for the wendigo to show up, then shoot it with a flare. It sounded easy. The boys had made it sound less easy, but then again, that was because they hadn't originally known what they were hunting and when they had figured it out, they had had to run out of the protected circle after Roy. So maybe it was as easy as Bobby had said it was.

She wandered into the study without really meaning to.

She picked the first book she saw and opened it. It was in what looked like Gaelic. Damn it. Many of Bobby's books were in non-English languages.

Sam translated the Latin ones whenever he came to Bobby's. He had apparently started as a kid. He was brilliant that way. Word smart, good at the written word, quick at learning new languages, he would have made a great lawyer.

Dean was machine smart. If he could fix it, he could definitely make it himself from scratch, and he could figure out a way to better it or make it useful for their lifestyle. He inherently understood the mechanics of things, movement and purpose, transfer of energy and all that stuff.

Emily realised with a jolt how her talents were parallel to theirs. Yes, she loved books; books were the inanimate siblings of an only child, but she was generally more into maths and science than prose and language and while she loved cars and was competent at maintaining them and other machines, she did not really care about the how or why something mechanical worked as long as it worked. She preferred the design and analysis of the systems that run things, the programs and the software; algorithms and coding and of course decoding is where her heart lay.

She looked around the study until she found one Latin book that Sam had already translated. Great, this would kill some time. 'Virgil's Aeneid Book VIII.' It was a story book really, but Bobby had said storybooks most times than not, got it right about supernatural things. She took it to the den and curled up on a couch. Rumsfeld jumped up next to her. She did not shoo him off. Bobby was not around to complain about the dog being up on the couch and she loved feeling the dog's warm body next to her. Dean was right, she really was touchy-feely!

In truth, the Aeneid was a poem, though it was nothing like any poem she had ever read. It was written like a story. She got lost in the book; this Virgil guy had a gift for storytelling. It was when she was reading about the Pallanteum that she remembered something Bobby had told her, something Steve Wendall had mentioned. One of the victims heads had been found strung over the entrance of a cave.

She flipped back to the Hercules and Cacus poem. Cacus was apparently a fire-breathing giant and the son of Vulcan, the fire-god. He lived in a cave and to the horror of nearby inhabitants, he lived on human flesh and would nail the heads of victims to the doors of his cave.

After living at the yard for all this time, Emily now knew that much of ancient mythology was based on real supernatural beings that people could not explain away logically, so they called them gods or demi-gods. Maybe Cacus was such a creature, and there were others like him. Shit, chances were high that Bobby was hunting the wrong thing. She tried his phones and all of them went to voice mail. He was probably out of range. She had to get to him.

No, she needed to figure out how to kill the thing if she turned out to be right. She continued to read. Hercules had killed Cacus. That was wonderful news! But how? She read the text twice before sighing in exasperation. Apparently Hercules had seized Cacus in a knot-like clasp, and, clinging, choked him, the eyes squeezed, and the throat drained of blood. Oh, so Hercules had strangled Cacus! This was just great! From the sound of things, Cacus was a giant who breathed fire, okay, she didn't know what to make of that fire part, but what if Cacus really was a giant? How was she or even Bobby going to seize him in a knot-like clasp? What the fuck was a knot-like clasp anyway?

Then it came to her. She almost smacked her head at her stupidity. The throat drained of blood, that is what had killed Cacus; that was how they would kill this thing, this cacus for lack of a better name. Okay, now she needed to get to Rum River and find Bobby. She tried his phone again, on the off chance that it was in range. Nope, voicemail.

Right! She needed to figure out where exactly in Rum River, Bobby was, but she couldn't reach him and couldn't call Steve Wandell for verification as she didn't have his number. Next best thing was go on the internet and search for mention of where the head was found.

When she got the information, she went up to her room and changed out of her dress and tights and into jeans and a tee-shirt and wore her more worn black boots. She grabbed her jacket and raced down to the armory.

She switched out the bullets in her S&W with consecrated iron bullets and loaded a double barrel shot gun with the same. Those ought to work. She carried salt rounds in her jacket just in case as well as a small flashlight. Pouring out extra food for Rumsfeld, she secured the house and left.

She was nearly three hours behind Bobby, but she hoped the cacus like most creatures waited for darkness to fall before hunting people. This way, she just might get to Bobby in time.

"You've reached your destination!" the navigator announced. Great, now Emily had to slow down and look out for Bobby's car. She knew it would be somewhere out of the way, a little ways off from where he himself would be. She parked her car beside his, tucking it's nose into the brush like he had done with his Chevelle. Hers was not really hidden by the brush, but with it's colour, it was less conspicuous than the smaller car.

Tucking her gun in her jeans' waistband, she rechecked the shotgun. She thought for a moment, chose the most likely place Bobby could have gone into the woods and started her trek with the gun at the ready. Boy, she hoped she was not too late.

She barely heard the pop of the flare gun, but she definitely saw its blinding light, she pinpointed the position quickly, she was not far from there, and immediately run into that direction. She came upon the scene so suddenly, that if she had not known what she might find, she would have thought her imagination had conjured it up.

Obviously Bobby had fired the flare gun and though it had hit the cacus, the thing was still coming at him. He had probably bought himself a little time because the flash of light had only temporarily blinded the thing. Fortunately, by the same light, he had quickly figured he was not dealing with a wendigo so he had dropped the flare and was reaching for his gun tucked in his jeans. That gun had regular bullets, Emily knew it was useless. Besides, he would never make it; by the time he swung the gun up and steadied enough to make a shot, it would be too late. The cacus was already raising its hand.

Emily fired, once, twice. The bullets lodged right in the thing's throat, it's snarl cut short, but it's claws still slicing downward, then arcing upwards and away from Bobby as it fell backwards. Wide eyed, frozen in shock, Emily watched both Bobby and the cacus fall. Her mind yelling a litany of scared, "Shit, shit, shit!"

Yes, she had accepted that what had attacked her in the garage had been supernatural, but whatever it was, it had been invisible, while this thing, this cacus was something out of the nightmares of the most imaginative person and was enough to stop her heart! As she had read the poem, her imagination had conjured up an image of a giant man with thick rhino-like skin and shark teeth. Well, her imagination was a pussy! This thing kind of reminded her of a gargoyle she had seen on a building, that had scared her shitless as a child. Only this cacus was a million times bigger and upright. She certainly hoped it was not made of stone like the gargoyle had been, because that would really, really suck! Fortunately, it didn't seem like it could breathe fire!

Her shock was also in part due to the fact that she couldn't believe she had actually shot the thing because truth be known, she had not really premeditated the shot, she had simply responded, she had squeezed the trigger in a knee jerk reaction to seeing that nightmare inducing thing. If ever there was a fluke in hunting, this was it. If the thing had not been so tall and big, the bullet would have gone wide and she would be minced meat right now. The third reason she was in shock was because she had seen the hit Bobby had taken. Hunting had just gotten real; this really was happening. That brought her out of her ice sculpture moment.

She dropped the shotgun, ran past Bobby to the creature and getting her gun from her jeans, she shot the cacus again this time in the heart, for good measure. She returned to where Bobby had fallen and dropped onto her knees next to him. The amount of blood was mind-boggling. The claw wounds were bleeding profusely but they had nothing on the head wound; Bobby had hit his head on a jagged rock on the ground. Emily felt close to tears, but she couldn't fall apart, not now. Bobby was depending on her. She remembered the boys' story about the flight. Sam had said that Dean had hummed Metallica to calm himself. She had howled her head off with laughter then, but now, it sounded like a wonderful idea. Too bad, she didn't find Metallica calming. Without even thinking about it, she found herself humming the Pink Panther theme song instead. She even managed a smile, before taking a deep breath. Okay, now what? She began to talk herself through what she had to do. First she needed to check his pulse. A sigh of relief followed the discovery of a strong pulse. She didn't know what the signs of a concussion were so she did not bother looking into his eyes; she wouldn't know what to look for and that would only be a waste of time. Next she needed to clean the wounds, bind them and somehow get Bobby to the car and drive him to a hospital. Okay, that meant she had to get back to his car to get the first aid kit. She found his keys in the left pocket of his jeans and raced back to the cars.

When she got back, she knelt beside him, using her knee to hold a wadded tee to his head, she washed her hands with some of the water, then she gingerly pulled away the destroyed clothes that were sticking to the bloody wounds on the chest and stomach. When the clothes were clear of the wounds, she cut them off. She sucked in a breath at the wounds, opened the water bottle and dunked its contents on Bobby's chest and stomach. She jumped a mile when the wounds began to fizzle and pop. Good gracious, what was happening? Then she remembered what holy water did to evil creatures and figured it did the same thing to the bacteria or whatever it was the creatures carried in their claws. When the sounds and the fizzles stopped, she poured more water, and Bobby began to groan. Never in her life had Emily been so happy to hear such a distressed sound.

"Bobby?" she called gently.

"Fuck, wrong intel!" he said about Steve's information. What was that thing? Is it dead?" his voice was stronger than she had expected, but that didn't mean anything because she had not expected him to speak at all.

She shone the flashlight at the dead cacus so he could see. "I wouldn't be here tending to you at the risk of being made into spaghetti!" she laughed. It sounded hysterical even to her ears. "I am calling it a cacus after the poem character."

"What poem?"

"Virgil's Aeneid. You need to sit up so I can bandage these wounds."

She helped him sit up, holding him in place for a while. He closed his eyes for a moment and she knew he was dizzy. She did not know much about these things but she knew that couldn't be good.

She handed him the wadded shirt and made him hold it to his head though the blood flow was less now. She grabbed the bandage from the kit and he held her wrist to stop her.

"Did you use holy water to clean the wounds?"

"Yeah. Nearly died of a heart attack too!"

Bobby smiled knowing how the fizzing and popping could freak out a novice. He let go of her wrist and she bandaged him up. The blood was already soaking through the bandages and he saw she was panicking out about it, but Bobby knew she had done the best she could under the circumstances, the wounds were clean so chances of infection were small and she was wrapping them up. However, he knew he needed stitching. Thank God the boys were coming to the yard, they would stitch him up. Speaking of which.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, his pain-filled voice taking the edge out of the demand.

"Saving your ass!" she retorted as she kept wrapping the bandage. "You're welcome by the way."

Whoa, had she sworn without being under the influence of anything. Her nerves must be shot to hell.

"I told you I could handle this on my own."

"Oh yeah? You were doing so wonderfully too!"

"Your brothers are going to kick my ass!"

"Well, thanks to me, there is an ass to kick!" she retorted.

She tied off the bandage and stood up. Shaking her head and muttering what Bobby was sure was idjit and knucklehead, she began shining the flashlight around, until she located his duffle. She stalked over to it, picked it up and returned to drop it with a thud next to him. She rummaged inside until she found the salt, a lighter and lighter fluid. Stalking over to the cacus she salted and lit it up.

She returned and collected everything and chucked it in the duffle then hoisted it to her left shoulder.

"Ready to go Captain Awesome?" Like her father and brothers, she covered up worry and concern with sarcasm.

"We have to wait till it burns completely." Bobby objected. Truthfully, he just didn't want to move.

"Trust me, it will burn completely," she had poured enough lighter fluid on that sucker to keep it burning even in hell. She only hoped she didn't start a forest fire!

It took about a minute for Bobby to get to his feet and he swayed dangerously for a few seconds before Emily came up next to him and took some of his weight even as he refused the help.

When they got to the cars, Bobby wanted to use his but Emily was having none of it.

"No offense Bobby, but my car is awesome, yours is two coats of paint away from being a junk piece, so we're not leaving mine behind and taking yours." Emily tried to lighten the moment.

"Just because it ain't tricked up don't make it a junk piece!" Bobby protested making Emily smile in relief. If the man could protest, then she could pretend he was not badly hurt. She helped him into her car and she could see he was trying valiantly to stay upright. She rushed to the driver's side and was reaching for the PNA with her right hand even as she closed the door with her left.

Bobby who had closed his eyes opened them wondering why they were not moving yet. He found her tinkering with a gadget and could not understand why it was so important. "Can you drop that and drive? The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll get home." he pointed out reasonably in what he thought was a no nonsense voice. Of course he could not hear himself slurring.

"I'm looking for the nearest hospital or clinic, Bobby. You might have a concussion and you definitely need stitches." Emily spoke distractedly as she got the directions and started the car.

"No, no hospitals. Back to the yard. Your brothers will be there, they'll stitch me up."

"You need the hospital." Emily was simply speaking to fill the air, she was not trying to convince him, she had made up her mind. The nearest hospital was just twenty minutes away, the yard was four hours away, maybe three, if she drove like a possessed person. She was not taking chances, with a three hour drive. What if he bled out?

"Sam hates doing it, but he's great at stitching, he's so neat!" Bobby blurted out, as if that information would change her mind.

Mmmm, everyday she learnt something new. She needed to keep Bobby talking. "Hey, you never did tell me about that werewolf hunt in Charleston."

He told the story as best as he could, but by the time she squealed to a stop at the entrance of the hospital, Bobby was out, his head bumping against the passenger side window. He was so pale and so still, Emily could not help feeling for a pulse before yanking her door open. It was there; thready and alarmingly fast, but it was there. Her own heart was beating just as fast, she thought it would fly out her chest. She ran into the hospital and yelled for help.


	28. Chapter 28

Two orderlies rushed outside with a gurney. When they opened the door, they had to catch Bobby to keep him from falling. He was wheeled away into the hospital. Someone took her keys from her, she did not put up a fight. Just walked back into the hospital. The adrenaline was ebbing away. She felt like she was wading in a body of water.

"What about you dear? Are you okay?" the receptionist was asking her.

Emily nodded.

"You cannot be unsupervised and unattended in the hospital. Is there someone you'd like to call?"

Emily would have objected furiously at the implication of those words but she was shell shocked, and truthfully, at the moment being a minor suited her. She could have corrected the woman with her standard line, "I'm eighteen, I'm not a minor. I don't need adult supervision!" but she didn't. Instead she chose to make the phone call.

She tried Dean's phone first. "The person you are trying to reach is on another line," the electronic voice informed her.

She tried Sam's but it just kept ringing. She gave up after three tries.

Since they believed she was a minor, she was not expected to fill in any paper work for Bobby, and even though they had expected her to, she would have used the confused-traumatized-child routine. Bobby would have to fill in his own paper work when he was able. Sometimes looking younger than her years was an advantage, but she'd rather die than admit that loud.

She sat in the waiting area and waited for news, analysing her decisions. Had she driven so slow? Had she hurt Bobby further by moving him? Why had she not connected the dots between Bobby's hunt and the Hercules and Cacus poem earlier? Someone was standing in front of her. She looked up. The man handed back her car keys. He said something about moving her car. She didn't really care, but she still whispered a thanks.

* * *

At the time of the call, Dean's phone was busy because he was talking to their father. Sam who was already irate from his brief talk with John was becoming angrier as he watched Dean get a pen and write down the names their father was mentioning. Dean's 'yessir answers' were making Sam furious. He could not bear to answer his phone which was vibrating on the nightstand.

When Dean got off the phone and said they were going to Indiana, Sam was having none of it. Both brothers completely forgot about their promise to Emily. Sam was so determined to find John, he wanted to go to California. Dean was determined to fulfill his father's wishes and was going to Indiana. By the time they went their separate ways, Emily had fallen into a light doze in the hard chairs of the waiting room, a victim of crashing adrenaline levels.

"Miss Singer?" someone shook her awake softly.

She came awake in a burst of movement; she was on her feet in an instant. How the hell had she fallen asleep?

"Did something happen? Is my uncle okay?"

"Yes, he's okay. I'm sorry I alarmed you. We've moved him to a room, you can go in and see him, sit with him. Did you make the call?"

"Yes, but I did not reach anyone. I'll try tomorrow. I don't want to stay all by myself in the hotel room my uncle had rented, can I stay here tonight?" Emily was going to milk this being a minor scenario for all its worth.

"Of course, dear."

She was led to the room Bobby was in. The first thing she thought when she saw him was how different he looked without his cap on. Somehow less rugged, more genteel. Next she wondered what it was about hospital beds that diminished people. Maybe it was because hospital beds had railings and that made the occupants seem childlike. Maybe, it was because the beds themselves were big and dwarfed the occupant. Maybe the machines that reduced a person's life to numbers and blips were to blame. Maybe he had always been this size, and had just seemed bigger because to her he was a constant, solid, reassuring presence, and he was larger than life, albeit in a quiet, unobtrusive, gruff way. Either way, he looked smaller.

She sat next to him and took his hand. "And you say I'm stubborn, you obstinate old fool!" she said affectionately.

"Obstinance can be a good thing!" The doctor was probably only a few years older than Dean. Emily's head snapped up at the words.

"Why?"

"He lost a lot of blood and he developed what we call hypovolemic anemia which is basically caused by low circulating blood volume."

"I did all I could. I just, I just couldn't stop the bleeding!" Emily's voice hitched at the thought that she had not done enough to save Bobby.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm not blaming you. You actually did good. You kept the wounds clean, and bandaged him up so you most probably kept infection at bay. Besides, you stopped the head wound bleed and you got him here really fast."

"So he is going to be okay?"

"Yeah, he's just sleeping. We pumped him full of painkillers and antibiotics. The only reason he was in the O.R. for so long was because stitching him up took quite a while, that bear really had a swing! However, your uncle must have one hell of a guardian angel because none of his organs were damaged! We had to gave him a rabies shot though, just to be safe. Now, we're going to closely monitor the serum electrolytes to avoid overcorrection."

"And his head?" Emily had stopped listening at stitches, the rest was just medical mumbo jumbo to her.

"He has a minor concussion, hence the dizziness you reported. The actual head wound is really very minor, head wounds just tend to bleed a lot. Like I said, you did good. He will be okay."

Emily said a heartfelt thanks to the doctor.

She sat and watched Bobby sleep. She had failed him. She should have gotten to him faster. She rested her head on the bed, what ifs running through her mind. What if Bobby hadn't relayed Steve's information to her? What if she had read something else? What if she hadn't connected the dots at all? What if she had missed that shot? She finally fell asleep an hour later, slumped over the bed and still holding onto his hand.

She had been too late. Bobby had been eviscerated. She was in time to kill the cacus but not to save Bobby. Falling off the chair woke her up from the nightmare. She had been asleep only one damn hour. The dream had been so real, she couldn't catch her breath or pick herself off the floor for nearly a minute.

When she finally did, she could not fall back asleep. She realised it was not just the fear of having another nightmare that was keeping her awake, but the fear that she had not done enough to protect Bobby. She could not fail him now. She remembered her time in the hospital in Brandon. Even before knowing what had really happened to her, Bobby had secured her room, like the hunter he was. Well, she was a hunter in training, so she had better start behaving like one.

Damn, now she wished she had driven Bobby's car from the woods, because at least it was loaded with the hunter's equipment. Hers had nothing except the duffle Bobby had had with him in the woods and that only had the first aid kit, a handful of weapons, and salt. The salt would do, but unfortunately the holy water was finished. She really needed to get Bobby's car.

She carefully ventured out of the hospital and creeped through the parking lot looking for her car. She knew the guy who had parked it had said something about where he had placed it when he returned the keys, but she could not recall his words, so it took her nearly thirty minutes to find it. The duffle bag was on the back seat where she had tossed it in her haste to get Bobby to the hospital. She found the salt then placed the duffle in the trunk. No need tempting fate again. Back in the room, she salted the window and placed a salt circle round Bobby's bed. She hoped the night nurse would be too distracted to notice the salt, and in the morning, Emily would wake up early and remove it so the day nurse wouldn't think she was crazy and have her thrown out or into psych. Then she would go get Bobby's car. Slightly more content, she was able to fall asleep.

* * *

Movement from the bed woke her up. She'd gotten another two hours of sleep. Not ideal, but it was better than nothing. She was so stiff, she was sure she would never stand fully upright ever again. Bobby had been out for nine hours but that did not stop him from complaining about her bringing him to the hospital. She ignored him and kissed him on the cheek, glad he was awake and grousing already. He growled even louder at the lack of coffee and threatened her with retribution.

"I'd be scared if you were not wearing a dress!" Emily teased him, with a laugh as she gathered the salt, using her hands and his chart. Finally seeing her smile and remembering how worried and scared she had been back in the forest and during the drive, Bobby let it go. Besides, he remembered feeling not too hot on the drive to the hospital, and he did not remember getting to the hospital, so he knew she had made the right call bringing him here instead of driving him to the yard.

"You're a candy flavoured dictator, aren't you?" he groused good-naturedly. She grinned even wider.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks to you."

Her smile fell. "I should have gotten there sooner."

"You got there, and that is what matters. Now I hope you're not blaming yourself for what happened."

"Bobby, I …"

"Hey, listen, this is not your fault. It was my fault. I should have done my research instead of jumping to conclusions. Now I don't want you saying otherwise!"

A nurse came in, her cheery presence ending the discussion. She frowned when Emily randomly said Christo, and subsequently ignored her. Checking Bobby's chart, she added medication to the IV, then readjusted the flow rate. Before Bobby faded out, Emily told him she was going to go get his car back, and look for food. When she left the room, her anxiety began to show. She had kept it well hidden from Bobby. She was worried about her brothers. She was yet to hear from them.

Outside the hospital, she tried their phones again. This time Dean's was off and Sam's was giving a busy signal. Oh God! Please, let them be okay, please. Emily had never been one for prayers, but after last night, hunting was no longer an abstract activity so not hearing from her brothers was making her break out in a cold sweat. Why hadn't they answered their phones the night before? Why hadn't they called her back yet? If they had made it to the yard, they would have called her and Bobby immediately. So it was obvious they had not made it to the yard. Were they okay? She didn't know what to do, she couldn't go to Rockford, couldn't leave Bobby here alone. She needed to keep busy, keep moving or she was going to breakdown.

She took a bus, then walked the rest of the way to where the Chevelle was. Driving it back into town, she went shopping for herself and Bobby. She then booked into a hotel simply to have a shower, and replenish the holy water which involved dropping a blessed rosary in a plugged sink filled with water and saying a blessing '_Creature water, I exorcise thee in the name of God the Father almighty, and in the name of Jesus Christ His Son, our Lord, and in the power of the Holy Spirit, that you may be able to put to flight all the power of the enemy, and be able to root out and supplant that enemy and his apostate angels' _There was a longer version of this prayer but this Sam abridged version worked just as well and in a pinch, you could make plenty of holy water very fast. She filled the flask.

In the hotel restaurant, she ordered a huge meal but barely ate. There were still no calls from her brothers and she needed to return to the hospital, to Bobby. She called the only other person whose number she had.

Expecting, the three rings then hang up then call again routine her brothers followed, she nearly dropped the phone when he answered after the first ring.

"Yeah?" the voice was deep, the tone curt and a little dangerous.

"Pastor Jim?" Emily asked. She had never expected a pastor to sound so dangerous!

"Who is this?"

"My name is Emily Av…"

"Did something happen?" the man's voice went from dangerous to concerned like someone had clicked a switch! Emily was thrown and went quiet for a moment. "Hello?" the pastor called.

"Sorry, uh … yeah, I mean no, I'm okay, but something happened to Bobby." Without waiting for him to ask for details, Emily launched into a quick, summarized retelling of the events.

"Are you still there? In Rum River? I can be there in less than three hours, I just need to get someone to cover for me." He wondered why Steve had not called him about the hunt. After all, Blue Earth was just two hours away from Rum River.

"Yeah, we're still here, but you don't have to come. I've got it covered here and I'm sure Bobby will want to leave as soon as he can. It's going to be a trial just persuading him to stay one more night. I'm calling you for another reason."

"What?"

"I've been trying to get in touch with Sam and Dean, to no avail and I'm kind of worried about them. Is there a way you can find them? Someone you can call maybe?"

"Oh! You know, I wouldn't be too worried about those brothers of yours. They have a way of wriggling out of the tightest spots. Besides, like John, they have a spotty relationship with technology, though he takes it to new heights. I'm sure they're okay, but I'll send out feelers, just in case. If I learn anything, I'll let you know."

"Thank you."

"Sure. Thanks for looking out for Bobby but for all our sakes, don't forget to take care of yourself, okay? Your father is not one to cross!"

Emily laughed as she hang up. She needed to return to the hospital. She'd been gone almost two hours.

She could only bring the holy water, a UV marker and one of Bobby's knives smuggled in her boot, into the hospital. She wondered how Sam had managed to get his gun through screening at the hospital in Brandon. Maybe that hospital hadn't had as much security as this one, or maybe her brothers were ingenious about such things. The latter was the most probable reason.

* * *

She opened the door and found a kid, a boy about eleven, standing right next to Bobby, staring intently at him. Emily was not sure who was more alarmed. Her or the kid. She yelled Christo and flung some of the new holy water in his face. Nothing happened. She hoped it was because the kid was harmless and not because she had made the water wrong. With her nerves shot to hell she might have said the blessing wrong. She sure hoped she hadn't. She edged herself between the boy and Bobby.

Spluttering in indignation the kid asked, "What the heck?"

Clearly he wasn't allowed to swear. Emily smiled. "Sorry. I thought you were … uh someone else?"

"Who? Stinky?"

"Who are you and why are you here?" She took in the kid's hospital gown and waved him down to sit in the reclining chair next to the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed, by Bobby's legs.

The boy made himself comfortable, sitting cross-legged in the chair. "I'm Joe, I heard the nurses talking about the guy who was half eaten by a bear. I wanted to check it out. He doesn't look half eaten."

Emily did not know whether to be amused or appalled by the kid's disappointment that Bobby had not been eaten. "That's because he wasn't but it clawed him up pretty bad. You do know it's rude to enter people's rooms without permission, right?"

"I know, I'm sorry,' the kid dropped his head in shame but seconds later it snapped back up, "Hey, how come the bear didn't get you?" he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

It was a funny look on a child and Emily found herself smiling as she answered. "That's cos I shot it before it could, but you can't tell anyone."

"Wow! Awesome!"

"No, shooting the bear was not awesome! What is awesome is that he is okay." Emily said sternly, indicating Bobby.

The kid was old enough to understand what Emily was trying to relay to him. He looked duly chastened. "I'm glad he is okay. Is he your dad?"

"As good as. He's my uncle."

"How big was the bear?" the kid sure had a one track mind.

Emily smiled, "It was huge!" she said theatrically. She knew how much kids his age liked drama. She used her arms to indicate the size and height of the imaginary bear. Her exaggerations still fell short of the cacus.

"Whoa!" he was impressed like she had expected. "Were you scared?"

"Shitless!" she thought but instead said, "I was beyond terrified!"

"But you still shot the bear?" his voice was filled with awe. It really didn't take much to impress a child!

"It was a fluke! So why are you here? In the hospital I mean?" Emily needed to turn the tables.

"Appendicitis." Joe sighed. "Being sick sucks."

"I know it does, but at least you'll have a scar. My brother keeps saying chicks dig scars!"

"Yeah? Really? Do you like scars?" he sounded hopeful.

"Of course, I do. They are proof that you've lived, seen action! Survived pain!" Emily smiled. Dean said it to bolster himself, but maybe he had a point. "You're a little young for me though."

The kid looked disappointed for a few seconds then perked up again, "Does your brother have scars?" he needed to quantify the statement from both sides.

"Yeah. They both do." Now the anxiety was back. Were her brothers okay?

"Where are they? Your brothers I mean?" the boy broke into her desperate musings.

That's a good question. She took a deep breath before answering the boy, "They're working."

"Bet they're really cool, cos you're cool and you're a girl."

"Thanks, I think!" Emily laughed. "And yes, they're cool, Dean even has the leather jacket to prove it. Do you have siblings?"

"I have a big sister. She's not cool like you. She's bossy!" he added petulantly.

"Is she always telling you what to do, even when you know what to do?" Emily smiled.

"Yeah! And she's always telling me I told you so!" he said in a high affected voice, trying to imitate his sister.

Emily laughed. Okay, her brothers would never say that, but sometimes Sam would give her a look that relayed the same message. Of course by the time they left the yard, they had mostly learnt how to handle her and she had stopped doing things just for the sake of being contrary, so there were less I told you so looks. "You know, if you show her how grown up and responsible you are, she won't be on your case so much." she advised her new friend.

"Really?"

"I promise! Then when …"

The door opened and a nurse came in, "So this is where you are, you cheeky little monster, I'm sorry if he bothered you dear."

"Oh, no, he was not any trouble. We were having a bit of a chat."

"Well, he needs to get back to his room. His mom is here."

The boy got up. "Bye. I hope your uncle gets better."

Emily waved him out, "You be nice to your sister, okay?"

"Sure!" the door closed behind him and the nurse.

* * *

Emily berated herself for slacking on the Bobby protection job. It was 11:30, she had to work fast because lunch time would bring Bobby's nurse. With the marker, she hurriedly drew sigils strategically around the room hoping she was getting them right. She switched the knife from her boot to the waistband of her jeans, making sure her jacket covered it.

She then sat in the chair and turned on the TV and flicked the remote looking for something decent to watch. Gosh, there was nothing on. She flicked through again, just in case she had missed something. Nope, still nothing on. Third time is the charm, she flicked through again. Nothing had changed. There was nothing on. Great, Bobby would be okay but she was going to die of boredom! Or anxiety, because the boys still hadn't called.

She got her phone and tried them again. Now both phones were off. Shit!

She paced the room. She sat down. She flicked through channels. She tried to call her brothers. She swore. She paced the room. And the sequence started again.

When Bobby's nurse walked in an hour later to check on the IV, Emily was mid-pace. "What did you give him? He's not waking up!" she petulantly asked the nurse.

The nurse laughed. Teenagers! They thought the world revolved around them! They wished you didn't exist, but ignore them and they suddenly wanted your attention!

"He should be waking up soon but his body needs the rest to heal."

Emily sighed. She knew that.

"We've got a recreation room in the children's wing. There are a couple of video games that might interest you." the nurse added kindly at seeing the dejection on Emily's face.

"What! You want me to go play video games and leave him here alone?" Emily sounded so shocked that the woman would even suggest such a thing.

The nurse smiled. She had been wrong, this one right here was one of the good ones. "He raised you right!" she patted Emily's knee before leaving.

"What was with people treating her like a child?" Emily wondered. Maybe it was because she was too fresh faced. At this rate she just might reconsider makeup!


	29. Chapter 29

In Burkitsville, Dean got a jolt when he saw the girl's nameplate necklace … Emily! Shit! He had not spoken to his sister whom they had promised they were coming home after the Roosevelt Asylum job. After the phone call from their father, neither him nor Sam had been thinking straight, the topic of their father always managing to tear them apart and remove all rational thought from their heads, leaving only hot blind emotion. In the heat of the moment, they had both forgotten to call Emily and tell her they couldn't make it because they had got other missions. His mission being to do the job his father had asked him to do and Sam's being the direct opposite. God, his kid brother could be an insubordinate little brat. Sometimes Dean wished he could spank him. Unfortunately the kid was now taller than him. Indeed there was no God, because what loving God would allow a kid brother to grow three inches taller than his big brother. That height had taken away some of the leverage Dean had over his brother. Thank the heavens Emily was short. Well, not short, she was far from short; for a girl she was a gigantor, but at least, she was shorter than him and smaller than him. Next to him and Sam, she was downright dainty! He hadn't seen her in forever, he hoped she had not grown another foot in his absence. That would really suck!

Really, after this gig was over, he was going to drive to Sioux Falls and check on Emily and Bobby, then he'd head to California and look for his hotheaded brother and father. He felt guilty about leaving Sam in the middle of nowhere especially knowing how easily his brother attracted trouble. He was also sorry he had called Sam a selfish bastard. Truth be told, he admired the kid but just couldn't tell him. As a big brother, he had a reputation to protect. He just hoped that between now and the time he would get down to California, Sam would be okay and would hopefully find dad.

He asked this Emily for information and went into Scotty's diner where he was promptly thrown out and chased out of town for harassing the couple he was trying to save. Damn, he missed Sam's people skills.

* * *

Even as he was talking to Meg, Sam was thinking about Emily. Not that the two had anything in common. This girl was blond, smaller, and by all accounts should have come across as more vulnerable than his dark, tall sister, but she didn't. There was something hard about Meg. Even as she identified with him, smiled and told him she was running from her parents, she came off as cold and unfeeling.

Also, she was giving off weird vibes. When she'd said she had cut the van guy loose, Sam's heart had skipped a couple of beats. He knew he was being ridiculous but he couldn't help feeling she had meant it literally. He wouldn't even be talking to her if he had not been feeling such angst at leaving his brother to find his father. He hated fighting with Dean but when the topic was their father, the result was always a fight, and this time, it was coupled with the unresolved issues between the two of them after the asylum gig.

So as Meg empathized with him, he thought of Emily. First, she would not have picked a side so quickly, and without hearing Dean's take too. Then when all was said and done, Sam knew she wouldn't have taken his side on this one. The loss of her parents, who had been her whole family was still too fresh and she would not understand how Sam could walk away from Dean, who had been the one constant in his life. She would have told him to stay with Dean, see the case through and then they would both look for John together. Family trumped revenge any day.

He wanted to call Emily, but he didn't dare, not with Meg listening in. He would wait until he was alone. It had just occurred to him that he could call Bobby, when his phone rang. It was Dean. He glanced at Meg, who was asleep and took the call.

That phone call left him raw. Without really saying anything, Dean had reminded him about the meaning of brotherhood. So hours later when he couldn't reach his brother, he knew there was no way he was getting on that bus. Truthfully, Sam was just glad that he had an excuse to return to his brother.

Each brother was just as glad to see the other even though they would never have admitted it. When they got into the car after getting the girl on the bus, they turned to each other.

"Well, I hope you called Rae!"Sam said.

"What? Dude, you always call. I can always count on you to call! You're the conscientious one!"

"Well, I didn't. The circumstances did not lend themselves to making a call!"

"Circumstances? You were not the one who got gun butted and tied to a tree as a sacrifice!"

"Fine. I'll call." Sam reached for his phone. The battery had gone flat. "Great! Guess we look for a motel to crash and charge these things."

"Then we have a little sister to visit." Dean started the car.

They found a run down motel fifteen minutes later and checked in. Sam hit the shower, while Dean plugged in the phones. He waited a few minutes before turning them on. There were missed calls from an unknown number, Emily, two of Bobby's phones and Pastor Jim. Dean's heart skipped a beat and then began to race. He called Emily first, her phone was off. So were Bobby's. With his heart now threatening to fly out of his chest, he called Pastor Jim. Two minutes later he was banging on the bathroom door.

"Sam, get out of there. We have to go."

"What?"

"Bobby and Emily went on a hunt…"

"What!" Sam flung the door open while still pulling on his tee shirt, "What happened?"

"I don't know, Jim's phone cut out before he could get into details. He said they were in St. John's in Rum River!"

They were out of the motel in less than three minutes.

"I'm so going to kiss Bobby's ass!" the look on Dean's face was thunderous.

Sam silently agreed with his brother.

A nine hours drive was ahead of them. Dean would do it in less.

* * *

By the time Bobby woke up, Emily had tired of her repetitive movements and had fallen into the chair and was staring unseeingly at the TV.

"Hey!" he croaked.

"Hi Bobby, glad you're up. This show is riveting!" she smiled. Yeah right, she didn't know what the hell was on. It could be infomercials for all she knew.

Bobby could see her smile was strained. Her eyes were blood shot. She looked exhausted and on edge. He decided not to bring up the leaving the hospital issue, just yet. She looked like a spring that was about to fly apart and he did not want to unleash her fury on himself.

"What is it about?" he asked about the show instead.

She shrugged. Too tired to even come up with a lie.

"You look tired. How much did you sleep?"

"Enough." her voice sounded dull. "How are you feeling?"

"Great actually!" to prove his point, Bobby sat up. Emily got up to help him, but the stubborn idjit managed to do it on his own. Emily sat back down, then Bobby had to ask the one question Emily had stopped asking herself because it was just upsetting her. "Where are those knucklehead brothers of yours?"

"I don't know!" she sounded nonchalant but Bobby was well versed in Winchester speak and even though Emily had not been raised one, she certainly had turned out a Winchester. He could hear the fear and worry.

"Emily, I'm sure the boys are okay. They've …"

Emily had reached her breaking point. "Oh really? You're sure they're okay? How? You're not the one who has been trying to call them since last night! Do you maybe have a telepathic link that I know nothing about? If so, please share with the class!"

That she said all this still slumped lethargically in the chair was a testament of how tired she was. Still, her posture did not take away from the heat of her words.

If she had been any other person, or it had been any other day, Bobby would have reprimanded her for her insolence but he knew she was worried and he was still looking for the words to assuage her worry when the door flung open.

Emily looked up tiredly expecting the nurse with Bobby's lunch and instead found a man wearing all black. In an instant she was on her feet, her knife in front of her.

"Who the hell are you?"

* * *

Pastor Jim had heard most of the outburst. Wow, what an ill-mannered child this Emily was. He was not sure what he had expected of her, but having known the Winchester boys since they were children, he had not expected any sibling of theirs to be uncivil and badly behaved, no matter who had raised her.

So he opened the door more forcefully than he would have, ready to tell off the insolent teenager. Instead, he found a girl, slumped tiredly and dejectedly in a reclining chair and Bobby looking at her with pity, not anger. The picture did not reconcile with his imagination or the words he had heard. Both startled and looked up at him.

Despite her obvious exhaustion, once the girl saw him, she was up and with a speed and economy of movement any hunter would have killed for, had a knife held out in front of her. Her stance, her steely, alert eyes and the way she held the knife, with no waving theatrics or spoken threats, told him she really knew how to use it. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn this girl was a hunter.

"I'm Jim Murphy."

Oh, so this was the pastor or priest or whatever! She had expected a collar.

Jim glanced at Bobby who had a smile twitching on his lips. The old bastard was enjoying this. Without withdrawing the knife, or her attention from him, Emily reached behind her with her left hand. She produced a flask from the recliner and handed it to him. With a glare at Bobby who was now silently laughing, Jim took a sip of the water, recapped the flask and by the time he handed it back, the knife had disappeared. The kid was fast.

"Nice to meet you Pastor Jim. I'm Emily Avis-Raines." she extended a long hand and smiled at him. The hunter gone, replaced by a surprisingly polite and gentle child.

"I know. We spoke on the phone about three hours ago," he took the hand. It was soft, no callouses, but the grip was firm.

"Thanks for coming!"

"I had to come. I had to see Bobby in a dress with my own eyes!"

"Not you too!" Bobby objected.

Emily barked out in surprised laughter. She was still grinning when she moved aside for Jim to get to Bobby's side. She sank back into her chair.

"Good to see you, Jim!" Bobby said his first words.

"You too old man!"

"Watch it. Even in this state I can take you!"

"I would like to see you try! Now she, I wouldn't cross!" Jim said of Emily as he pulled up the unused corner chair and sat by his friend.

The two chatted for a while, laughing heartily and sporadically until the nurse came in with Bobby's lunch.

Jim had thought Emily was asleep because her hair was curtaining her face, but when the door opened to let in the nurse, she looked up quickly and alertly, he knew he had been wrong.

Bobby fell asleep after lunch. Jim looked across the bed. Emily's dark hair was again obscuring her face. He knew better than to think she was asleep this time. He did not know how to break the silence. With Bobby awake he had not had to worry.

"Did you manage to get in touch with Sam and Dean?" she beat him to the punch.

"No, not yet"

"So why are you here?" Emily was aware she was coming off ungrateful, but she had asked this man to find her brothers, not to come and babysit her.

"I'm here because I can be here. When there is news about your brothers, there will be news about your brothers. Until then, relax!" Jim said firmly but kindly.

"I can't," she briefly closed her eyes and held the tips of her fingers to them. She respected this man, not because of his title, but because of how he had spoken to her.

"You should get some rest. You look exhausted!"

She sounded exhausted too. Her words were stringing together slowly, like the brain was taking a long time to relay the necessary message to her mouth.

"I'm fine!"

There was a fire under those weary words, a fire that dared him to say otherwise. Jim had heard those words spoken automatically, and usually without truth, from John and his boys. Apparently, it was a hard wired Winchester answer.

"Figures you'd be as stubborn as he is!" Jim shook his head in amazement. He had spoken to himself, but she heard him.

She turned to him with a faint smile. "Can you tell me about him, please?" Emily loved hearing about John, even the less flattering stories were entertaining.

Aside from Missouri, Jim had known John and the boys longer than anyone else in the hunting community, and he had a good memory, and a flair for storytelling. Emily was sure it served him well as a pastor. He had her laughing and commiserating, sympathizing and criticizing, and with each story, she learnt more about her father and the relationship between him and her brothers.

* * *

Jim watched Emily in fascination. When she laughed, her eyes, though bloodshot from tiredness, twinkled with glee. When she disapproved, she did not need to say it, it was immediately written in the small frown and pursed lips. Her eyes dulled with sympathy at the sadder stories, and they clouded with unshed tears at the tragic ones. The way she narrowed her eyes in suspicion and cocked her left eyebrow when she thought he was having her on, was particularly funny to Jim and it took everything for him not to laugh whenever she made it.

Well, Jim had to admit he had jumped to conclusions so hastily. Emily was refreshing, mischievous and mouthy without crossing the line over into disrespectful territory.

The stories helped pass the time because when his phone rang, an hour and twenty minutes had passed. He looked down at the screen. It was Dean.

"Hello Dean!" he said. He did not miss nor understand the hurt look that crossed Emily's face. "Listen, I'm at St. John's in Rum River with your sister and Bobby …"

"St. John's? That sounds like a hospital?" Dean questioned suspiciously.

"It is. A hunt didn't go exactly as planned and … hello? Hello?" Jim took the phone off his ear and looked at the screen. It was black. His phone was dead. He had not thought to carry its charger with him. He too had a hate relationship with technology. He turned to Emily. "Can I borrow your phone?"

She stood up to reach into her pocket and retrieve the phone. Immediately, she knew it was dead, because whenever she drew it from a pocket or her bag, it lit up as she inevitably touched a button. It was not lighting now. "I'm sorry. I think the battery went flat."

She had no idea when that had happened.

"Great! At least I managed to tell him where we were."

Since she was now up, Emily decided to pace around the room, get the blood flowing, muscles moving and clear the cobwebs of exhaustion that were gathering on her brain.

"I noticed from the way you handled that knife, and the fact that you killed a cacus or whatever you called it, that you can take care of yourself. It that due to nature or nurture?"

Emily smiled at the way the man phrased his question. "It could be nature because I took to it easily and I was a child then, but the fact that I had lessons from way back, means it's been nurtured as well. So I guess, both?" she hated people who spoke like they were asking a question but she now understood that they did it because they were unsure.

Jim had never approved of children being exposed to violence. He had fought John over it but John had argued that he needed to teach his sons how to survive in the world they found themselves in. Jim had reluctantly agreed. He was a pastor and he was a hunter, circumstances had forced him to learn how to survive in the world he found himself in. So he had understood where John was coming from, however, he could not condone civilian parents who did the same.

"You learnt how to wield a knife as a child?" Emily could tell he was shocked and a little disapproving.

"I had karate lessons as a child, for the discipline. I did not learn how to wield a knife until it came up in my lessons, and by then I was much older. I first went shooting when I was thirteen, until then, I didn't even know my mom owned guns!" Emily defended her parents.

"You held that knife like a hunter, not a karate trained person!" Jim objected. He knew the difference.

"Oh, that! I've been training. With Sam and Dean, then Bobby, and once with John. I needed to tweak my skills for the real world!"

Pastor Jim supposed they had been right in honing her skills. Besides, they had not picked a random innocent civilian off the street and turned her into a hunter. This girl had been fated to become one, had already had the basic skill set even before meeting them.

He didn't like it, but such was life. The supernatural world did not care about your feelings or beliefs or upbringing!


	30. Chapter 30

Emily hit the information button on the remote so she could see the time. Wow, ten already? Where had the day gone? Damn, she needed to sleep. Her eyes were gritty and closing them made them burn. She intentionally kept them closed tightly for a few more seconds hoping the burning sensation would dissipate. The door opened. She thought it was Pastor Jim returning from the cafeteria. She was too tired to care.

"Mimi!" the shock and relief in both voices was palatable. Her eyes snapped open.

She was out of her chair and at Dean before either brother could react. She slammed him against the wall and began to rain blows upon him. "You said you were coming. You promised, but you didn't even call! I called you! I called you over and over again, but you didn't answer, didn't call back!" she yelled. Sam was dumbfounded and frozen in place.

Bobby woke up and thought, "Thank God. Now we're going to be thrown out for sure!" He was tired of this room. He didn't care if he couldn't sit up without wanting to swear in all the languages he knew, he wanted out of this hospital. Unfortunately Emily was a sugarcoated tyrant and Jim thought she was right. Bobby watched the unfolding scene quietly.

If Emily had been just another girl, Dean would probably have let her hit him until she got tired or had gotten the anger out of her system, but she wasn't just another girl. She was his sister and she packed quite a punch. So resisting the urge to rub his chest, he instead took her wrists and snapped her arms to her side and held them there forcibly, hoping he was not hurting her.

"Why didn't you answer?" Her voice broke, "I was so scared! I thought something had happened to you!"

The exhaustion, the worry and fear, and the sheer relief of seeing her brothers walk through the door, hit her. As the weariness and emotions released in form of tears, her knees buckled as well. Having not expected it, Dean quickly let go of her wrists to grab her in a bear hug and he slid down against the wall. Shifting to make the two of them comfortable, he ended up sitting cross-legged with Emily on his lap. He fiercely clutched his pliant sister to his chest as she cried silently, and shattered his heart. Her silent tears tore at his heart more than loud sobs would have. Silent tears meant she was still trying to be strong. Over her head, he beseeched Sam with his eyes. He was out of his depth. Monsters he could handle, a sibling's tears, not so much.

Without mortification, Sam got down on his knees and for a brief moment buried his face in Emily's hair, the relief of finding her alive and unhurt bringing moisture to his own eyes. Then he sat down next to Dean and leaned slightly into him, while carding a hand through Emily's hair, at once giving support to his brother and comfort to his sister. Taking a cue from Sam, Dean began to rub Emily's back.

The boys knew girls cried, heck people cried. They had seen and heard their share of crying people and had commiserated with them … well, Sam had commiserated with them, Dean had given stoic support, but neither brother ever let it really get to him. After all, a crying person was an alive person, and they felt guilty enough about those they failed to save, they couldn't add people's tears to their burden. Well, it was easy to be neutral, but not when someone was crying because of you, and not when that person was your usually spunky, resilient baby sister. Shit, they should have called.

"We're sorry things got crazy, but that's no excuse. We should have called and explained." Sam spoke, his voice low, gentle, soothing and genuinely apologetic.

"I thought something had happened to you, but Bobby needed me and I couldn't leave him to look for you!"

God, she sounded so young, so overwhelmed. Dean looked over at Bobby, his eyes furious, his message clear, "We're going to have words! You should have known better!"

Bobby didn't care. He was just glad the boys were here, because Emily needed them. Bobby was damn proud of Emily. Her first hunt had been unplanned, but not only had she killed a monster and contained the scene, she had had to help an injured man without knowing much first aid, she had had to make a quick decision about where to go for help without having anyone to consult, she had worried about the validity of that decision and had protected the hospital room from the supernatural. She had done all this, with just a few hours of sleep, and the added burden of worrying about her brothers. Yes, for a not fully trained first timer, she had done great, more than great really. He could not believe how long she had held on, stayed strong. She had needed to let go, to let someone else take the mantle of responsibility, but she couldn't burden Bobby, because her sense of obligation wouldn't let her burden an injured man, and she couldn't burden Pastor Jim because she did not really know him. She needed her brothers. Bobby closed his eyes trying to give them a semblance of privacy.

"We're here now, and we're fine." Sam replied.

"We're always fine!" Dean added with a laugh, attempting to lighten the moment.

"Until you're not." Emily hiccoughed. Hunting was not fun and games; seeing Bobby take that hit and watching him fall had brought that home, hard!

Sam and Dean were relieved, Emily's tears were already abating, thankfully she wasn't one of those people who sobbed for hours! They wouldn't have been able to take it. Emily crying, was a first for them. Sure she had hyperventilated in the hospital, something they had mercilessly teased her for after her release, but she had been sick then, and traumatised from her experience. When she had left the hospital and gotten better, and made peace with her attack, they had learnt that despite appearances, she was indomitable and tough, not given to hysterics or dramatics. They'd never seen her cry and even though logically they knew she'd obviously cried before, and would definitely cry again, it was still disconcerting to hear her cry now.

* * *

Emily was exhausted, the release of the pent up emotions had worn her even further and the back rubbing and hair carding were doing nothing for her resolve to stay awake. As she began to drift, she felt Dean shift slightly. Poor guy, his legs must have gone to sleep. She needed to get off him, she was rather heavy. Her body was now sluggish with sleep, but she made short work of extricating herself from his arms and sliding off his lap onto the ground. He immediately kneaded his legs to return feeling into them. She knew both brothers were watching her, but she was unable to look either one in the eye. She simultaneously felt ridiculous and justified for crying.

"I'm glad you're both okay," she said softly and a little sheepishly.

As if he had been waiting for permission, Sam immediately lunged forward and hugged her tightly.

"So are we! We actually thought you were hurt!" he released her and run a huge hand over her checking for himself that she was not hurt. She smiled tiredly at him. She would have rolled her eyes if she wasn't so tired. Sam was a bigger mother hen than Dean, and that really was saying something!

"I'm fine. Bobby is the one who got hurrrrrrrt," the last word ended on a yawn.

"You're going to unhinge that jaw!" Dean laughed as he stood up. He rolled his shoulders, the popping sounds alarmingly loud. Before walking to Bobby's side, he run a hand over both his siblings' heads. Sam looked up in shock, Emily simply accepted it without any fuss. Neither said a word.

"Hey Bobby!" Dean quietly said to the man.

Bobby opened his eyes, looked first at Dean then sideways to Sam who had followed his brother. "Hey knuckleheads!"

Despite themselves, both boys smiled.

"Good to see you." Dean said.

"Glad you're okay." Sam said at the same time.

"What happened?" Dean was not known for extended pleasantries and he wasn't going to start now.

Emily picked herself off the floor. Gosh she was exhausted. She wondered how she was going to drive but she wanted out of here, she needed a bed. "While you guys are at it, I'm gonna go. I'm beat!"

"Go where?" Dean's attention was divided.

"Into town to book myself into a hotel and sleep in an actual bed. I love you, Bobby, but I really hate that chair. G'night. I'll see you tomorrow." She opened the door and stumbled out.

"There's time enough to hear the story, but if that kid gets behind the wheel of a car, she's bound to kill herself or mow down someone else. She has barely slept you know. And that car of hers ain't small either!" Bobby informed the boys who were watching the door that Emily had left open. Apparently she was too tired to even pull it closed behind her. "You guys don't look so hot either!" Bobby added.

"But Bobby, what about you?" Sam asked. Both boys looked torn.

"What about me?"

"Yeah? We can't leave you here alone!"

"The last I checked, you two ain't doctors and you're certainly not nurses!"

"You know what we mean!" Dean snapped. He was tired and still emotionally overwhelmed, he was not in the mood for jokes.

Bobby sighed. Another emotional outburst from one of these three Winchester whelps, and he was using his belt! "Look boys, Jim is here, he went to the cafeteria, he should be back soon. The pious bastard probably just took a detour to the chapel! Besides, even if he wasn't, Emily fixed this place up with every protection sigil there is! Truthfully, with the defence here, she didn't even need to hang around, but in hunter-mother-hen mode, your sister is scary! Just ask Jim! Now go, because with those legs, your sister has a five mile stride!"

The boys didn't need telling twice.

"G'night Bobby!" Sam called out as they rushed out of the room.

Bobby smiled to himself.

* * *

The boys caught up with Emily as she got into the elevator. "Hey, wait up."

"Yeah?" she held the lift, thinking they had a question or something. She was surprised when they got in with her.

"You can barely keep your eyes open!" Dean said in explanation. "We can't let you drive!"

"Besides, that car of yours is a classic, it would suck if you wrecked it!" Sam added.

Emily punched him, "I love you too!"

The elevator closed and Sam suddenly grabbed her around the neck and began to sing 'it's a small world after all' loudly and obnoxiously right into her left ear. Snorting with laughter, calling him immature and threatening him with all kinds of violence, Emily tried to break free from his grasp but it was useless. As usual her weird laughter set both brothers off and Sam's singing became garbled as he laughed and made Emily and Dean laugh even more. It was madness. It was perfect.

When the elevator dinged to a stop, Sam stopped singing, released her and tried to compose himself. The theatrically innocent look on his face cracked Emily up more. She was still wheezing with laughter when the doors opened and Sam had to hold her to his side to get her moving. Some of the people they passed smiled at them, others frowned in disapproval. Sam grinned widely at the latter group, making them frown more. Dean stalked ahead of them with a small indulgent smile on his face. It was uncharacteristic for him not to join the silliness, but Sam thought it was because he was tired.

"We're taking my car!" Dean stated, the minute they exited the hospital.

"Sure, but I'm driving!" Sam said. Dean opened his mouth to object but Sam hurriedly added, "You drove the whole way here, dude. You're beat, even though you won't admit it. You will drive us off the road."

Dean snorted. With his siblings in the car, there was no way he would drive off the road, not even if he was high! However, he acquiesced. Might as well let Sam take the responsibility.

Emily did not object. Their car was more functional when it came to availability of weapons. She detoured by hers to get her clothes and toiletries. Dean noticed the new state of her duffel bag and imagined the things inside were just as new. He shook his head. It was obvious this hunt she had been on with Bobby had not been planned beyond killing the monster.

* * *

Being the driver meant Sam was responsible for picking the motel. Usually there was no pressure, because it was just him and Dean. They could crush anywhere as long as privacy was assured and the minimum standards were met. For Sam, it was important for a motel to have a working shower with hot water and a bed or something similar to a bed, two beds being better of course, also, internet access was welcome but not a deal-breaker if missing. Dean of course thought a shower was much, much secondary to a bed and probably imagined Sam's computer was magical.

The two of them had been in motels where the mould could be mistaken for wallpaper, rooms that were one crack away from caving in, and one motel had had so many cockroaches that they could carry away a comforter if they put their minds to it. Dean was convinced those cockroaches were responsible for his missing toothbrush!

Well, now they had Emily with them. He couldn't check into just any motel. Emily was not a snob, far from it. He knew that no matter where they ended up, she would take the place in her stride, but he was not willing to subject her to the awfulness of those below par motels.

He remembered her words as she left Bobby's room, but as great as it sounded, a hotel was out of the question. Emily needed to learn that hunters avoided hotels. Yes, hotels were expensive but that was not the reason, as there were some hunters out there who were practically rolling in it. Hunters didn't use hotels, because hotels did not offer as much anonymity as motels and making a quick getaway from a hotel was a bitch if not outright impossible.

Imagine having to escape from a hotel ... chances were you couldn't leap out of a window because of the height and if you did, you'd need a rope or some other equipment which obviously you wouldn't have checked into the hotel with anyway. If you went out through the room door, you were actually still inside the building, with its hallways and floors, and chances were high that your car was in a basement that would likely require a passkey to open. Of course movies made escape from a hotel look easy, but movies were a crock of shit! No wonder Dean found most movies hilarious, even the ones that were not meant to be funny.

At this thought Sam's eyes cut to his right. Dean was out for the count, his head thrown back over the seat, mouth open. Sam could have paid him back in kind for the last prank, but he didn't. There would be time enough for that. Through the rearview mirror, Sam could see that Emily was asleep too. Her head pillowed by her jacket placed on the window. The stubborn little brat had refused to lie down, said there was no point since it was going to be a short drive. Asleep, she looked like a twelve year old. Had he looked that young at eighteen? Had Dean? He did not remember.

He turned off the road when he spotted a promising motel. He left the car running as he went to the office to talk to the clerk, knowing that turning it off would wake Dean. He took the proffered key and inspected the room. It was starting to show wear, but it was clean, and best of all, one of the beds was a queen. He returned to the car to get his siblings. He felt unchivalrous waking up Emily but she absolutely hated being carried. She could not even abide it during play; forget piggybacking or shoulder rides. Good thing she was tall, or she would never enjoy concerts! Both brothers wondered whether it was a kind of neurosis, a trust issue or just her over-inflated independent streak.

They trudged into the room, Dean first and Sam bringing up the rear. Emily was allowed first use of the bathroom so she grabbed a few things and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Dude, who's sleeping where?" Dean whispered when the shower began to run. He was laying salt lines.

"Thought that was obvious! We'll use the queen, after all we've shared before." Sam was hidden by the bed as he crouched down to plug in the phone chargers.

"We were kids!" Dean looked affronted. Besides, they had not had a baby sister who he was sure was going to snicker at them sharing a bed.

"If you feel that strongly about it, you can sleep on the floor!"

That wasn't going to happen. He was tired. "Fine! But no cuddling!"

"As if! Dude, I'd rather cuddle with a porcupine!"

Dean rolled his eyes.

Emily took a very quick shower and was out in no time dressed in her jeans and a huge T-shirt she had originally bought for Bobby in case he had been discharged early. She'd re-worn the jeans because the T-shirt only got as far as mid-thigh on her. Being tall certainly had it's drawbacks. She should have bought pjs that morning, but she had not been thinking.

"Need help with anything?" she asked Sam as Dean took his turn in the shower.

Sam turned, "No, it's all good. Everything is set."

She saw their phones charging and remembered hers was flat too. She found it and plugged it in. She also noticed he was charging the iPod using his computer. Smiling she got into bed and a few wiggles later, she had her jeans off and lobbed into the chair. Sam smiled.

"I was about to point out how uncomfortable it is to sleep with your jeans on!" he said.

"Don't I know it! I've had those on forever, I think they've imprinted on my skin!" Emily turned to her side so she could look at Sam. He was sitting on the left edge of the queen bed, the side closest to her. She had noticed back at Bobby's that Dean used the left bed which was closest to the door. Now seeing how he had claimed the right side of the shared bed, which was also the side nearest the door, she realised it was a deliberate protective choice. He was hers and Sam's first line of protection if anything breached the salt lines. Her heart swelled with love and pride for her brothers. Maybe one day she would be as awesome as they were.

Sam could not ask Emily about the hunt. That was a topic that had to be introduced by Dean as the eldest, and discussed by all three of them. Instead, he decided to talk about music.

By the time the shower turned off, the two of them were laughing about how some people heard 'there's a bathroom on the right' on Creedence Clearwater Revival's Bad Moon Rising.

"So they think these guys are warning people to stay indoors because of a bathroom that's bound to take their lives?" Emily snorted with derision.

"Must be one hell of a shitty bathroom!" Sam quipped.

Emily exploded with laughter. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Dean exited. It was Sam's turn.

Dean situated himself on his side of the bed and closed his eyes. Still chuckling appreciatively, Emily watched him. He was a little more subdued than he usually was, but she figured he was just tired.

"Goodnight, Dean," she whispered.

"Night Emily."

She frowned. Had she made him mad somehow? He never called her Emily, unless he was mad or exclaiming in shock. She turned, not to avoid looking at him, but because she only fell asleep curled up on her right side. She pulled the sheets and blanket up to her ears. She thought Sam would find her awake, but the exhaustion had really caught up with her and the sound of the shower lulled her to sleep in no time.

Dean had also thought that Sam would find him still awake, but he had not counted on how long his little brother would stay in the bathroom. Gosh, Sam was such a girl! He supposed he'd have to find something else to tease Sam with now, because Emily was a girl and she had not spent half as long in the bathroom as Sam. Without even trying, Dean was asleep just a few minutes after Emily.

Sam was not surprised to find the room quiet. Both Emily and Dean had been pretty beat. He smiled indulgently, seeing how differently the two slept. He could barely see Emily's face, with the covers so high. Like the time he'd checked in on her at Bobby's, she was curled up on her right side into an impossibly small ball. Dean on the other hand was sprawled on his stomach, taking up more space on the bed than he should have, his right hand under the pillow, holding his bowie knife for comfort. If Dean had been in Sam's position, he would have shoved his brother, but Sam would make do with the remaining space. Dean had accommodated Sam during their childhood, so now, Sam would accommodate Dean, even though it meant putting up with his bed hogging, and his loud mullet rock, his inappropriately timed jokes, his terrible table manners, his womanising ways, his … wow, how were they even related?

* * *

Sam remembered reading that sleeping position was a good personality indicator. He thought it was a load of bullshit, but as he got into bed, he found himself thinking about his siblings, how they slept and what the experts said.

Apparently, foetal position sleepers had a tough exterior but were still sensitive, they appeared shy but warmed up quickly. They were conscientious and overthinkers. Well, Emily was not shy, not in the real meaning of the word, but she tended to fade into the background when she felt overcrowded or out of her league. The rest was true.

People who slept on their stomachs, freefallers, were said to be brash, outgoing, and uncomfortable with criticism. Yeah, Dean being his own worst critic, always took criticism from others badly, and if he ever socialised outside his small circle of loved, trusted ones, he would be considered outgoing. He certainly was confident, Sam wouldn't exactly call him brash though at times he came off as cocky, but ironically, this was during times when he was feeling insecure.

When Dean was not sprawled on his stomach, he was sprawled on his back. So as a starfish sleeper, he should additionally be a good listener, helpful, and uncomfortable being the center of attention. Two out of three was not too bad, with the last two being spot on, but good listener? Ha! Sam imagined the voices in Dean's head were too loud for him to really listen to anyone. The only person Dean ever actually listened to was John, and that was probably because their father did not speak, he barked orders.

If he thought about how he slept, Sam figured his sleeping position was the yearner position. Figures that he would have the sissiest sounding sleep position! So anyway, yearners were supposed to be open-minded but a little cynical, and once they made a decision, they were stubborn about sticking to it. They wanted more from life and were willing to go out and get it.

Okay! So maybe these sleep experts were not that crazy after all. A little off in places, but close enough.

The sleeping position also apparently determined how one felt when they woke up. Feotal sleepers woke up refreshed and ready to move onward and upward, because they compartmentalised and organised as they sleep. No wonder Emily always woke up upbeat, as if the day before however awful, had not happened. Maybe he should learn how to sleep in the foetal position.

Freefallers woke up feeling like they still had things leftover from the previous day, which made them feel over anxious about getting things done today. That probably explained why Dean was always in motion.

Yearners were supposed to wake up eager to face the challenges of the day, seeking out new opportunities. When he was in college, he had woken up like that, but now, when he managed to sleep without nightmares, he woke up worried that he would fail. Fail his brother, and now his sister like he had failed Jessica. He felt like the weakest link, the one with all the baggage.

Why the hell had he started this stupid analysis? Now he was depressed. With a sad sigh, he deliberately changed sleeping positions, turning to adopt his brother's alternative, the starfish position. His siblings' soft breathing was reassuring and soothing but it was another twenty minutes before he fell asleep.


	31. Chapter 31

Sam woke up at 7 o'clock, which by his standards was really late. He must have been more tired than he'd thought. He was not shocked to find Dean still asleep. Dean loved his sleep. If not for Sam, he would stay in bed till midday, or even later, after all, like he always pointed out, the freaks came out at night. That Emily was still asleep was surprising. Their sister was a consistent early riser, usually up before or at the same time as Sam. Dean had raged at a god who would give him not one, but two siblings who were allergic to sleep. Sam had laughed at his brother, without any sympathy.

He shaved, brushed, dressed and went out on the breakfast run. His return briefly woke Dean up, but he quickly went back to sleep when Sam said it was okay. Sam settled down at the desk with his breakfast, a book and the iPod, only one earbud in, music set to a really low volume. He was a hunter after all.

Dean finally got up at 10. He frowned when he noticed Emily was still in bed. "She okay?" he asked Sam softly.

"Yeah." Sam answered with a slight laugh. Truth be told, he had been worried himself and had gone and stood over her for a moment just an hour back.

"Dude, this is cold!" Dean complained a few minutes later after he'd dressed and gotten to his breakfast.

Sam waved in the direction of the microwave.

"Awesome!"

Sam went back to his book, surreptitiously watching Dean.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new record!" Sam cheered inside his head. Dean had stayed completely quiet for fifteen minutes, while awake! Sam had actually timed the occurrence. Oh the power of a sleeping baby sister! However, Dean was now bored and of course his favourite pass time in the world, was seeing how quickly he could get Sam to snap.

"Watch TV!" Sam said through a clenched jaw. His brother was flicking his ear.

"At this time? You know nothing is on!"

Sam knew Dean was right. Daytime TV really did suck.

"Here, check out that busty something website you like so much!" Sam shoved his computer at Dean. He couldn't believe he was suggesting that, but he needed Dean to leave him alone.

"Dude, our baby sister is in the room!"

"She's sleeping!"

"So?"

"Okay, fine." Sam closed his book, popped out the earphone and turned to his brother. "You've got all my attention. Now what?"

Dean was at a loss. Sam was being so reasonable. Dean wanted to get a rise out of him, not get his attention. "Nothing. I'll clean the guns!"

Sam couldn't help the smile that split his face. So giving Dean attention was all it took to get him off his back? Who knew?

He let Dean stew for a few minutes, then got up from the chair and went sat next to him on the bed. Dean's mouth quirked slightly. Sam was a softie.

Sam didn't even realise he was humming until Dean asked him what he was listening to. "Let's see if it's possible to broaden your horizons a little!" Sam teased as he offered Dean one earbud in answer. With an eye roll, Dean took the proffered earbud and popped it into his ear.

"If I hear hit me baby one more time, I'm throwing this thing out of the window and running it over with my car!"

Sam chuckled. Dean would never. Emily would kick his ass.

Mmm, Dean slowed his cleaning movements, he kind of liked this song. He could listen to it again. He didn't want to ask Sam what the song was and have him laugh at him so he tilted the iPod and checked the song for himself. The Hardest Button to Button by the White Stripes. It was followed by Take me out by Franz Ferdinand, another new one for him and this was followed by Telegraph Road by Dire Straits. He knew he shouldn't be surprised by Emily's taste in music, after all, the kid had taste, but she had admitted to loving a wide range of music, and he had been worried there would be too much whiny music or loads of peppy upbeat music or a lot of loud, angry music. Well, he was pleasantly surprised. At this rate, they might have to draw up an iPod management chart.

Sam could see that Dean was enjoying the music, even the songs Sam had been sure Dean would hate or at least grumble at, went over without comment. There was hope for him yet. He returned to his book.

Each brother became lost in the music and in his task.

"I'm hungry!" Dean complained after a long while.

In surprise Sam looked at his watch. It was almost midday. He glanced over at Emily. Still asleep. Still in nearly the same position. Did she ever move?

"Warm Rae's breakfast and have it."

'What about her?"

"When she gets up, we'll go for lunch! Or you can go get lunch for us all." Sam shrugged.

Dean was paranoid about leaving his siblings alone even though he was aware they were capable of looking after themselves. He warmed the sandwich. "I think you should wake her up. She's been asleep almost twelve hours!"

"Dude, swallow before you talk. And if you want her up, you wake her!"

"No, you wake her."

"No you do it!"

"No, you!" this time accompanied by a shove.

Sam shoved him back.

"I'm up!" Emily groaned cutting off Sam's retort. She stared blearily at her brothers for a moment then she stretched out, complete with popping sounds and happy mewls. She saw their eyes tracking her arms, and realised they had not seen the scars for a while. She could see them remembering how she had gotten them. She quickly brought her arms down and crossed them in front of her chest to hide the scars. Grinning at them, she teased, "No wonder Bobby calls you two chuckleheads!"

"Oh, I think he includes you on the chucklehead list now!" Sam answered with a smile of his own.

"No way! I'm awesome. Now turn around so I can get out of this bed."

Both boys obliged and she disappeared into the bathroom.

By the time she got out, Dean had packed away the guns and was tossing and catching the car keys idly. She hadn't been gone that long, he was just being a drama king.

"Oh, great, finally! I'm starving!"

"Dean, you just ate!" Sam laughed at his brother who was already at the door.

Emily who had been in the town before, directed them to a diner.

Dean parked the car and followed his siblings in.

He wondered whether his siblings just might be the most unassuming people in the world. The three of them, whether alone or together, commanded attention when they entered a room. Dean was aware of this kind of attention and used it to his advantage. His siblings on the other hand were oblivious. Like him, they did scan their surroundings and every occupant for danger, but that was it. They never seemed to notice the appreciative looks they got.

When it was just him and Sam, Dean enjoyed the looks, he encouraged the girls, to approach. Even the ones who were interested in Sam were welcomed and allowed to make passes. Sam was usually shocked and embarrassed by the attention.

Now, Dean was not enjoying the looks so much, because some were being directed at Emily.

Like Sam, Emily was completely impervious to the appreciative looks she was getting. Their sister was beautiful, but she was totally unaware of it. It was not pretence and it was not an esteem issue, not for her and not for Sam. It was simply because they did not expect people to care about something that superficial. They got uncomfortable when they got attention for their looks, like they could not understand why they were getting attention for something they had not actively done. When they got complimented, they didn't fish for more by asking 'really?' and they didn't preen either. They simply accepted the compliment gracefully, and tried to move on quickly to another subject. If they liked the person back or maybe found them attractive, they'd blush and duck their heads and Dean would have to carry the conversation if it was Sam or kill it dead, if it was Emily. Truthfully, Dean found their bashfulness endearing, but he would never tell them. He simply called them dorks.

So the appreciative looks that Emily was receiving were noticed only by Dean. He glared dangerously at every guy he caught looking at his sister. For goodness' sake she was a kid! The guys looked away quickly, pretending to be busy with their menus and food. Now, because he was busy scaring away every male in the nearby ten mile radius, Dean could not even stop to wink and flirt with the pretty girl at the counter, and could not care that she frowned in disappointment. He followed his oblivious siblings to the booth at the back, and sat down across them with a huff.

"Surely you're not that hungry!" Sam exclaimed seeing the look on Dean's face.

"Can we just order, eat and get out of here?" Dean did not mean to snap.

Both Sam and Emily's eyes widened but neither said anything. Sam waved the waitress over and they made their orders.

At first they ate in silence then a random comment about the lack of spoons somehow got Sam and Emily talking about the pros and cons of the Matrix.

Dean did not join them. Sam wondered what was up with that. Dean could wax lyrical about the first Matrix movie and could creatively and hilariously trash the second one. It was the third that he totally refused to acknowledge.

The drive to the hospital was subdued. The only sound was the music playing.

* * *

"Oh, how nice of you chuckleheads to finally show up!" Bobby groused when they entered his room. He was sitting on the bed, no longer hooked up to anything. They all knew he was not staying here another day. Pastor Jim was in the chair Emily had appropriated before. He smiled in greeting at them. Dean greeted both men with a slight nod and dropped into the wheel chair by the door and began to roll back and forth in it.

"See? I told you! You're a member of the chucklehead group!" Sam snickered at Emily after rolling his eyes at Dean's antics. "Hi Bobby, Pastor Jim!"

She snorted at him, greeted the priest, then turned to Bobby. "Sorry, it was my fault. I overslept." She handed him the things she'd bought the day before.

"You were beat kid, I never saw someone fight sleep like you did. Idjit!" he added fondly.

"Not to mention the number of sigils you drew!" Pastor Jim added.

Emily felt her ears heat up. She knew she had been over zealous in her protection duties, but better to overdo it than be sorry, right?

"How many?" Sam asked with a slight smile in his voice.

Emily fell back and covered her face with the pillow.

"There's seven just in the bathroom!" Bobby answered as he disappeared into the mentioned room.

"That bathroom is the size of a closet by the way!" Pastor Jim added for effect.

Sam fell back on the bed laughing. Dean's lips twitched but he deliberately squished the laugh. After laughing for nearly a minute, Sam tried to pry the pillow from Emily's face. "How many are there, Rae? Come on!"

Truthfully, she didn't know. She hadn't counted. Had just drawn as many different sigils as she could remember. She had really been OCD about them.

"I don't know. I just drew what I remembered."

"You drew from memory? Really?" Pastor Jim's mirth had turned to awe.

"Neither of us thought to grab reference books!" At this, she glanced worriedly at Dean. The fact that she was here and not at the yard was not something he was happy about. He looked like a coiled spring but his self control was impressive. She was going to have it once they got to the yard. She was sure of it.

Sam too glanced at his brother. The two of them still didn't know what had happened during the hunt and he was surprised Dean was not demanding that Bobby or Emily tell them. There was time to hear the tale, but Dean had never been patient. Maybe Pastor Jim's presence was a good thing after all.

"I wasn't sure if they were accurate or not, that's why I couldn't fall asleep!" Emily explained. She'd also been worried that something she'd not thought of protecting the room against would walk in and get to Bobby.

"Actually, they all are! At least the ones I know, are." Pastor Jim exclaimed. Until now, he hadn't known she had drawn from memory. He had spent many entertaining minutes sweeping his black light over the walls while Bobby slept, imagining with glee the looks on the nurses' faces if they ever discovered the desecration of their precious walls. Bad Priest! There were a few sigils he did not know and he'd thought she'd imagined them. Now, he knew otherwise. He definitely needed to hit Bobby up for more reference books.

"Really?" Emily peered from the side of the pillow.

"Yes."

"Thank Pythagoras!" she exclaimed, tossing the pillow to the side and sitting up. Pastor Jim's eyebrows rose. She saw the look and explained, "Greek mathematician."

"I know." he said but the questioning look was still there.

"Oh, I thought maybe because you're a … you might not umm … know. Umm, you know the general dictum of Pythagoras' school was 'God is number' and I can't say 'thank God' because I'm agonistic or I used to be agonistic so instead I say 'thank Pythagoras' because I'm kind of into math and I'm agonistic, well I used to be agonistic!" she rambled.

The look on the priest's face was priceless. Sam started to chuckle. Dean swung the wheel chair around and studied the wall studiously while biting his cheek. They had had that same bemused look the day Sam had asked her why she exclaimed the way she did.

After a moment of silence in which Sam struggled to get himself under control, the priest spoke. "And now you're what exactly?" he asked.

"Angry!"

"Angry? Why?"

"Well, from what I've read, and heard, all the gods out there are douches. Most require human sacrifice before they can grant anything, even the ones who supposedly grant good things like fertility and fortune are douches."

"Fair enough!" Pastor Jim said. "What do you think about God?"

"Oh, ho, God is just as bad!" she snorted. "He or She or It, while not asking for human sacrifices, still requires prayers with self sacrifice and flagellation and fasting; generally you need to be beat down or straight up miserable before He can help. Yet, if He does exist, then obviously He's sleeping on the job because He doesn't answer those prayers. No offense but with all the evil out there, both supernatural and human, I don't see any smiting taking place!"

Before the garage, before Bobby's revelation, Emily had indeed been agonistic. She did not understand the unquestioning conviction of believers, and she did not understand the adamant doubt of disbelievers. There was no proof either way. Now, she was leaning more towards belief, but she was a disappointed, bitter, angry believer. Yes, it seemed very likely that God existed, but He clearly did not give a shit!

Dean, who didn't believe in God's existence but always wondered, was glad that even though Emily entertained the thought of God's existence, she was not blind or complacent in her belief.

Sam who for the most part believed in the existence of a higher power was glad that his sister did too, but was saddened by the fact that she despised It or Him or Her.

"That is because God gave us the power to do the smiting ourselves." Pastor Jim said in a reasonable voice. He was not affronted. He firmly believed that everyone had a right to their beliefs. He knew where each Winchester including the newest member, stood on the belief scale.

"Power? Oh please! It's like throwing a bunch of desert mole rats in a cage with a puff adder and saying the rats' teeth and numbers are enough protection against the snake! It's not fair. Those rats don't really stand a chance. To even the stakes, the snake would either have to be smaller and nonpoisonous, or the rats would have to be bigger and enhanced with better sight and thick skin. However, why bother with all this when you can just throw in a ratel with the snake and take out the precious rats. Or just put everything in a separate cage? If God exists, then he's a dick and he's ignoring us. He should have given us more power. More than half the people out there aren't even aware that these evil things exist, they don't know how to protect themselves. And those of us who do? Well, we can only do so much as we don't exactly have telekinesis or super speed and we can't drill holes in necks and possess other beings. If we're God's favorite creation, then why doesn't He just send in His Angels and get this whole thing over and done with? Better yet, why doesn't He just take out the evil himself? That is why I prefer to think we're all alone in this battle and we'll fight as best as we can, and maybe, just maybe, we'll win. I believe in people, in hunters."

Dean would have stood up and applauded.

"Hope and Faith! You have faith in humanity and hope for victory and those are the best gifts you can ever get from God. It doesn't matter whether you believe in him or not. Besides, He did put us in different cages, it's just that they cracked open!" Pastor Jim still spoke evenly. Being unflappable came with a priest's job description.

Emily was preparing to object when Bobby got out of the bathroom. "Right! Let's go." It was obvious he had heard the debate.

There was a brief completely silent moment as everyone recovered from the heavy, contentious subject that had just been interrupted.

Dean jumped out of the wheel chair and bowed over it, indicating that Bobby get in. Bobby began to protest. "Hospital rules!" everyone said to him in varying ways.

He also wanted to drive but no one would hear of it. He ended up in the continental with Sam. They had all agreed that his chevelle was too small for comfort. He needed a vehicle he could stretch out in and it was a toss up between the impala and the continental. He would have argued the issue to hell and back, but he was faced with three of the stubbornest people he had ever met, and the world's most imperturbable priest. He chose the continental because he could not imagine a four hour drive with a disapproving Dean, and besides, Emily made for good company anyway. However, Sam ended up driving the continental, because Emily had figured he would be more comfortable in the bigger car, as it had more leg room. She drove the chevelle. Damn self sacrificing little sisters! Fortunately, Sam was gracious and quiet.

They drove in a convoy, with Pastor Jim leading, followed by Sam, then Emily, and Dean bringing up the rear. The Winchesters and Bobby exited off Interstate 35 to get onto Interstate 90. Pastor Jim would exit further on to get onto Route 169.

* * *

By the time they got to the yard, Bobby was in a world of pain, his lips thinned out, his skin pale, but he did not complain. After all, he was the one who had insisted he leave the hospital. Sam had to ward off an enthusiastic Rumsfeld who was trying to leap at his master and lick his face.

Bobby painfully shuffled off to his room. Emily went to her room to change out of the jeans. "Gosh, I'm chafing!" she yelled as she ran upstairs. Sam couldn't stop laughing as he carried his and Dean's bags to their room.

Dean offered to carry out kitchen duties. He was a good cook. Sam had never learnt because Dean and later Jessica had not let him. When the meal was ready, Emily took up a plate for Bobby.

The three siblings ate in the kitchen then converged in the den. Dean had waited enough. Without waiting for anyone to sit, he spat one word. "Spill!"

Emily told the story straight; no embellishments, no retrospective musings, no boasting, no undue modesty. She simply told the events the way they had unfolded; of course she left out the humming of Pink Panther.

Then she waited for the explosion. The tic that was going in Dean's jaw was indication that it was going to be one hell of a blast.

"What the hell were you thinking? That was stupid and reckless! You could have gotten yourself hurt or worse killed?"

Emily had been planning to take the yelling in utter silence, knowing she had messed up, but she could not help speaking. Her actions though reckless had been far from stupid and had been justified. "I was thinking that I had to help Bobby!" she said reasonably.

"You went off half cocked to a hunt!"

"I did my research!" her voice was considerably louder.

Sam sat down, hoping his siblings would follow his lead. No such luck.

"No, you chanced upon a poem. That is not research. That was a bloody fluke, you stretched the information you got so you could have an excuse to go on a hunt!"

He was right to a certain degree. It had been luck that she had read the Aeneid, and truthfully, she had done a little bit of extrapolating to reach the conclusion she had. Even though she had turned out to be right, connecting that poem to Bobby's hunt had taken a huge pinch of out there rationalizing; it was a subconscious excuse for her to join Bobby. However, at the end of the day, it did not matter if she had wanted an excuse, she had turned out to be right. That is what should matter.

"Well, I was right, wasn't I?" she was now furious. He was only seeing the negative side of the events.

Sam pressed back into the couch. This was getting intense. Wow, did he and his dad look like that when they got into it? It looked as scary as hell, as if the two were about to whip out their guns and shoot each other! No wonder Dean got upset when Sam and John argued. Sam might as well have been invisible for all the attention his siblings gave him.

"Yippee! A lollipop for the winner!" Dean said sarcastically. "What if you had been wrong? Eh? You would just have jeopardised Bobby's position, his whole hunt!"

"But I wasn't wrong! Besides, I tried to call him to let him know what I thought."

"You should have called us!"

"That would have been stupid. You guys had just called me to tell me you were in Illinois. I was nearer. It made more sense for me to go after him. Besides, I did call you later on and we both know how that went!"

"You should have called Pastor Jim then. He was only two hours away. He would have gotten there in time and Bobby would not have gotten hurt in the first place!"

Emily felt a chill go through her. There it was. The accusation. Dean blamed her for Bobby's injuries and he was right to. She had made the wrong call. Bobby had been hurt because of her.

"Dean!" finally Sam found his voice. He spoke his brother's name as a warning.

Dean glanced at Sam, then turned back to Emily. She looked stricken; her eyes wide and filled with tears. Without a word to either brother, she got up and left the room.

"Crap! Damn it! What was Bobby thinking?"

"So now you're going to blame Bobby too?" Sam's voice was disbelieving.

"He should have done his research before going off and leaving Emily to do it for him!"

"He didn't ask her to do it. You know that! Besides, as it turns out, she was right!" Sam knew Dean was more mad at himself, for not being there than at Emily or Bobby and was only lashing out to alleviate his pain. Sam hadn't thought he would be in the cross hairs; he never expected the next words.

"Hey, don't go being all reasonable with me now. I'm not the one who shot his brother!"

Sam looked at him with eyes nearly as wide as Emily's had been before she had walked out. Dean had shocked himself as well. Where the hell had that come from? Why now?

"What? I thought we were over that. I thought we were okay?"

They had been okay, for a while at least, but Dean realised that it was only because between their dad's call and Pastor Jim's call, so much had gone down and he had not had time to examine his inner feelings. "Well, you thought wrong. You said some mean shit then shot me in the chest and you think a few sorries will make me forget? Make it go away?"

"I was not myself, it was Ellicott!"

"Oh, but you were yourself, Sam!" And we both know it! Ellicott just gave your feelings a little more boost, but they were already there. Festering!"

Sam bit down on his jaw as he looked up at his brother. A tiny part of him, that was not boiling in rage, was thinking he had not had to look up at Dean for years. "You know what? Screw you! I try to talk to you and you shot me down, then you act like this out of nowhere! Well, you know where to find me when you're ready to talk." Sam got up and left. He was at the threshold of the room when Dean spoke.

"Yeah, that's what you do best, you run and hide like the selfish…"

"Bastard that I am. I know!" Sam spoke softly, sadly, as he paused at the door, but he did not turn around. After a moment he walked away.

With no one there to unload upon, Dean paced around the room for minutes, then deflated, he collapsed in the couch and held his hands to the side of his head in remorse.

* * *

Emily retreated to her room. By sheer force of will and exaggerated breathing, she kept the tears from falling. She had inadvertently abetted in getting Bobby hurt so she was not the one who should be crying. She should be looking for absolution, but from who? Bobby did not blame her and she had started to believe it was not her fault, but that had been rationalization once more, hadn't it? It must have, because Dean sure as hell blamed her, and Sam did too through his silence. So was she supposed to ask for forgiveness from them? Or Bobby? Or find a physical way to atone? She had no idea what to do. As she did in such situations, she retreated into her head to sort herself out. Physically, she was nitpicking at an algorithm.

Sam knew he should go and talk to Emily, assuage the guilt he knew she was feeling, but he was feeling emotionally shaky himself and he didn't think he had it in him to comfort his sister. He went outside for a walk. He ended up at the pond by the very edge of Bobby's property. He and Dean had unresolved issues. They had had issues before they had started hunting together again. He had tried so many times to talk it out with Dean, but his brother was a champion deflector. Well, Sam was tired of waving the olive branch and having it snatched out of his hand and used to smack him in the face.

He stayed out there for hours, skimming stones over the water and talking to Rumsfeld who had followed him. When he returned to the house, it was quiet. He was still distressed, but was less shaky, so he went to check on Emily. She was on her bed scribbling furiously on a piece of paper, and when he made his intention clear, she explicitly told him she did not want to talk yet.

Okay, he was officially all out of olive branches now.


	32. Chapter 32

Four days later, the atmosphere at the yard was still strained. The siblings were not talking to each other, they weren't even pretending to talk to each other, Dean was sleeping on the couch in the den, Emily trained outside on her own, Rumsfeld her only company, and Sam spent most of his time in his room or the den timing his exits with the sounds around the house so he wouldn't run into his siblings by accident.

Even when it had been just Bobby and Emily, the house had never been this quiet, it was certainly never quiet when the brothers were around. It was like being in a ghost town complete with the unhappy vibes and unresolved issues.

All three were talking to Bobby, taking it in turns to monopolise his time but not surprising, none of them talked about what they were fighting about. He had not expected them to. Winchesters could be fiercely private. He knew they had had a major falling out that evening they had returned to the yard from Rum River, but he did not know what it was about. When he had gotten upstairs, he'd taken his medication and after barely eating the food Emily had brought up, he had fallen into a heavy drug induced sleep.

He would have to initiate the peace talks between them because those three were incredibly stubborn and none would want to yield first. However, he would have to wait until he was at least 80% recovered. He would need all the strength he could summon, he might even have to use his belt or at least convincingly threaten to use it. Currently, if he rounded off upwards, he was at 75% so it would be a while yet. For now, he kept his head down and his lips zipped in the quietly hostile environment.

It was in this environment that John's call came.

* * *

Dean felt his way into the kitchen with his eyes resolutely closed because he did not want to wake up fully, since was intending to return to the couch for more sleep after his snack. His phone rang startling him enough to snap his eyes open. He swore colourfully at his interrupted sleep and answered it without checking the caller id.

"Hey Dean."

"Dad?" he woke up instantly.

"Pendleton, Oregon, a friend called, I think she has a poltergeist problem. I need you to go down and check it out." he proceeded to give Dean the friend's name and address.

"Yessir."

"And Dean, take Emily with you."

"What? No!" his eyes snapped to the window through which he could see his sister who was seated cross-legged under her favourite tree strumming her guitar with Rumsfeld next to her. Hell, no. Emily was a hippie, not a hunter.

"Dean, that was not a request. It's an order!" John barked.

"I don't care. It's still no." Dean's voice was just as hard.

John sighed. Before this moment, Dean had argued with him on two occasions; the day he'd suggested Sam start training, and the day he'd decided to take Sam on his first hunt. So John was not surprised he was baulking at Emily going hunting too. John was glad Dean was this protective of his siblings, but life had handed them all a shitload of lemons. Dean needed to realise he could not keep his brother and now his sister from the life, he could only teach them how to survive in it, and protect them as best as he could.

"She's got the right instincts, a powerful sense of intuition, and quick reflexes. Dean, she's a hunter whether you acknowledge it or not."

"She's not a hunter, dad. She's a kid who has had some fight lessons and fired a few shots at bottles and cans."

"That's not entirely true! Besides, that's how you were trained."

"For years, not months."

"Even though it was not in the hunting sense, she was trained … for years before her path crossed with Bobby. While I agree she's not yet as good as you boys are, she's plenty good, I've seen her. I know she can take care of herself. Besides, you and Sam will be with her, you'll watch out for her. When she killed that cacus, she figured out what is was based on a throw away comment and a poem and figured out how to kill it by thinking outside the box. Who could have done that but a hunter? So whether you like it or not, she's a hunter." John had been duly impressed when he had heard the story from Pastor Jim.

"She doesn't even have false identification!"

"I know. You'll have to pass through Hobbs and see Fabio about that. I called him already, paid in advance."

Damn his father was a bloody boy scout; always prepared with the right ammunition to shoot down each argument Dean could come up with. Dean needed a bigger gun.

"She promised, dad. She promised. Before Bobby agreed to train her, he made her promise it was just for protection and that she wouldn't go hunting." Technically, Emily had done no such thing. She had agreed to not looking for trouble. It was close but wasn't quite the same thing.

Dean sounded like a child who had been told that Santa was not real, but was still holding on to the hope that the revelation was a lie. Well, Santa was not real, people, even intrinsically good people, lied and broke promises all the time, and they usually had justifications for why. John hated doing this to his son, his boy who was so ready to fight for others' innocence, when his had been ripped away much too soon. Due to his deceptive, cunningly cultivated hard shell, most people did not realise that Dean was sensitive.

"Well, she lied. She had to say whatever it would take to get Bobby on board. Look, I've been after the thing that killed Mary, for years. I uprooted myself and two little boys because of vengeance. Sam returned to the hunting life because of Jessica's death, because he needs to avenge her. Emily lost three parents! You think she's going to just let it go? That maybe because she found me and you boys, she has replaced those she lost and moved on? We are her family, but so were they. You seriously think she is learning hunting skills so she can sit at Bobby's and wait? You think she intends to sit on the sidelines forever? I don't think so. She's a Winchester, despite appearances and upbringing, and she's got the same fire burning in her that we all do. So I'm pretty certain she'll soon strike out on her own. I saw it in her eyes. Don't tell me you haven't noticed it? If you haven't, you're in denial. And trust me, she's learnt enough from you boys, and knows a lot more about the real world than you or Sam and with her computer skills, if she disappears, she'll be very hard to find until she's in some kind of supernatural trouble and it's too late."

Dean's breathing had hitched. He knew his father was right. He had seen the gleam in Emily's eyes. He had been in denial, they all had, him, Sam and Bobby. The cacus hunt was just the beginning. While it had freaked her out, shown her in living red blood just how easily and badly things could go wrong, it had also given her resolve and faith in her own abilities. There was a self-confidence about her now. She knew she was good, and he had to admit she was. However, imagining her out there on her own was making his heart beat faster than normal. Yes, their father was right, she had to come along on the hunt, it was the only way Dean would be assured of her safety.

John softened, after all, he knew he had won this battle. "Watch out for her, and let her watch out for the two of you as well. She's stronger than you think. So, take her with you."

"I will dad." Dean answered softly.

He sounded sad, broken. John knew his sons well, so he knew Dean was feeling conscience-stricken. By accepting to take her hunting, Dean felt like he had failed Emily. It broke John's heart to be the cause of his son's pain.

"You'll be okay. You will all be okay!" It was not just a placation. It was a father's promise.

"I'll look out for them." Dean made his own promise.

"And let them look out for you too." John knew he was wasting his breath. Unless he couldn't help it, Dean would never let himself be looked after, least of all by his siblings.

They said their goodbyes and hang up.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. The three of them weren't talking and now they had to go on a hunt together. Yeah, good times! He swallowed his coffee in one gulp. "Might as well get on with it," he thought as he wrenched the door open.

* * *

Emily looked up as the door opened. Dean walked out and she idly wondered which direction he was going to take. Would he go right, to his car or left, to the improvised shooting range. He didn't head in either direction, instead he came directly at her.

"Oh, oh!" she thought as she put aside her guitar and stood up. No way was he talking to her when she was seated on the ground. Standing she was still shorter than him but she preferred to face him on her feet. Running away or punching him would be easier if she was standing.

He stood almost five feet away from her. She frowned. This feud or whatever was going on, was getting ridiculous. Dean had never been one for personal space. It probably had to do with living in small spaces all his life with his father and brother. Sam had perhaps learnt about it when he went off to college, but even he was remarkably comfortable with a smaller than normal distance between him and people he liked and trusted. Emily teased them mercilessly about it, saying it was their secret way of hugging without physically hugging and that they were more Italian than pasta. Well, these days, Dean physically avoided her and now he had finally sought her out, he was standing at a distance reserved for a complete stranger.

"Dad called. There's a case in Oregon," he said blandly.

"Oh!" Emily was disappointed. She'd thought maybe Dean was ready to talk about what was bothering him. "When are you leaving?"

"As soon as we can. So make it quick and pack appropriately, this is not a road trip." he was already turning away.

"Okay. Wait! What? You want me to come with you?" her voice was at once disbelieving and hopeful.

"Yeah. Dad specifically asked you come along."

"And you agreed?" she was less enthusiastic now, knowing it was not his idea.

"Isn't this what you want?" Dean's voice was a little dangerous now.

"Yeah … well … umm … I do, but it's just that you don't want me to hunt!"

"This is not my decision. It's dad's. If you don't want to come, you have to call him and explain."

"No, that's fine!" she bent and picked up her guitar and followed him into the house. Her happiness greatly dampened by guilt. She felt bad for Dean. Taking her on a hunt was against everything he believed, but his father, who he respected, had made him go against his own convictions. She somehow felt responsible for this turn of events.

* * *

In the brothers' room, Sam turned towards the door as it opened. He expected Bobby, not one of his siblings, and was shocked to see Dean. He wanted to grin in greeting, but the thunderous look on his brother's face stopped him.

"Get packed. We're leaving. Poltergeist. We're heading to Oregon by way of New Mexico."

"Coordinates or call?" Sam sighed, still not making a move.

"He called," Dean said tiredly. He might as well tell Sam the rest because he would find out soon enough anyway. "Emily is coming too."

"What? Are you crazy? Why?"

"Dad said to take her."

"Oh, and you just said, yessir, I'll take my little sister on a dangerous hunt! Wonderful! You're the world's greatest big brother!"

Dean shrugged. He did not have the energy for this. At least the anger had propelled Sam off his ass. Unfortunately it had propelled him right in Dean's face where he was yelling like a banshee.

"God, Dean, do you ever question the guy? Like ever? Just a few days ago you were ballistic about her going off to help Bobby, and now you're taking her because dad said to? What is wrong with you? You're a fucking hypocrite!"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you. Who was the one who advocated that she be trained, uh? What did you think dad would do when he found she was trained? Did you think because she's his daughter he would hug her and kiss her and take her to fairs? He didn't do that for us, you should have known he wouldn't do it for her. He must have been as happy as a drunk in a beer factory, to have another soldier he could send off on hunts. I'm surprised he even waited this long. So this is as much your fault as it is mine. At least, he didn't send her on a solo mission; she'll have us looking out for her. Now, if you're not packed by the time Emily is done, I'm going on this hunt with just her!"

"You know what? Sometimes, I hate you."

"Well, get in line." Dean said tiredly, zipping up his bag and leaving the room.

In the room across theirs, Emily sat frozen on her bed. She was packed and ready to go, but now, she did not think she would go. Not when she was the reason her brothers, who were so unbelievably close to each other, were fighting.

After throwing his bag in the car, Dean went to find Bobby. The man was so much better now, but he was not a hundred percent yet. Dean felt terrible about leaving him alone at the yard. However Bobby was gracious. He waved away Dean's concern. "I was living alone before Emily came and I got plenty of knocks then."

Bobby did not think the hunt was a good idea, but if he voiced that concern, Dean would take it as criticism, and feel even more pressure than he already did. "You three take care of each other," he said instead.

"Yeah, sure!" He went out to the car to wait for his siblings.

Sam trudged downstairs, said a quick goodbye to Bobby and joined his brother in the car. With his anger now burnt out, he realised he had been unfair to Dean. He was sure their dad had pulled a real dick move to get Dean to accept taking Emily with them. He really hated their father sometimes.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean was running out of patience. What the hell was she packing? Emily wasn't one of those girls who took forever doing anything. No matter the task, whether it was getting dressed or packing or cooking, she conceived the outcome beforehand, mapped out precisely and quickly what she needed, and got the job done without a fuss. She was very efficient. Dean found it kind of weird for a girl but he did appreciate it. So what the hell?

He practically flung himself out of the car and stomped back into the house. He knocked once at her door and entered before receiving an answer. There she was, seated on her bed, her bag ready at her feet. "What the hell? Let's go."

"I'm not coming."

"What?" Dean was not taking this, not now. He grabbed the bag, "March your skinny ass to the car right now, or help me God, I'm going to knock you out and carry you myself."

He had not expected that approach to work because, Emily, like Sam responded negatively and usually contrary to orders. He was therefore surprised when she sprung off the bed and tore past him and out the door, muttering words he didn't catch. He was sure if she hadn't met Bobby on the way out, she would not have looked for him to say goodbye.

He walked past them as Bobby said a few words to her, and chucked her bag in the trunk with his and Sam's, then he flung himself back in the driver's seat and waited.

* * *

"You three knuckleheads need to talk. Now, Dean would rather die than initiate a talk, and I think Sam has been burnt too many times so I don't think he'll try this time, so it's down to you." Bobby said to Emily.

"What? You want me to talk to them? How? What do I say?"

"I can't tell you that, cos I don't even know what you idjits are all frosty about. So, choose one brother, I suggest Sam because he's less likely to bolt, sit him down and just start talking. Whatever you say will be right, because you'll be talking and that is what matters."

Emily considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Guess I can't make the situation any worse, right?"

"That's my girl!" Bobby cheered, not in the least abashed about it.

Emily smiled for the first time in days. "Well, I better go before one of them storms in here like Tarzan. Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Okay, all this cheek kissing has got you thinking I'm soft! You're now cut off!" Bobby laughed and extended a hand.

With a happy laugh, Emily shook his hand and went outside.

The atmosphere in the impala sucked the temporary happy right out of her again. Damn, she wished she had insisted on driving her own car.

* * *

When the huge black car disappeared, Bobby made a call. "Damn you John! You can't keep pulling such stunts!"

"What? Is this about sending Emily with the boys? It had to be done."

In a perfect world, John of course would never have sent Emily out on a hunt. However, now, knowing what he knew, knowing what Sam might become, he knew there would come a time when he'd need all Winchester hands on deck. When that time came, he did not want a green hunter. A hunter who was trained but not tested. If like Adam, Emily had not stumbled into this life, he would have left her out of his plans, but she had and it was no use pretending otherwise. Besides, he hadn't been lying when he'd told Dean that Emily was thinking of going off on her own. He'd seen it in her eyes and the set of her jaw.

"It's not that. Emily has already been out on a hunt, unplanned as that event was, and I know she would have gone on another sooner or later," Bobby said, proving he was more astute than he was given credit for. "The problem is, you only call your children to send them off on these hunts without even knowing what's going on with them! I'll be surprised if they even make it all the way to Oregon without incident. The three of them are having some kind of issue. You forcing Dean to take Emily along despite his misgivings, did not make it any better." Bobby informed the man.

"You're concerned because they're squabbling? I may not have had any growing up, but even I know it's normal for siblings to fight, Bobby!" John sounded incredulous.

"I've watched those boys grow, physically at least, cos they still act like damn kids half the time, so squabbling or fighting is not an issue when it comes to them. This, whatever it is, is bad. This is like that ridiculous cold war you and Sam had going. The difference is that you two were not hunting together. Your kids are not speaking and you sent them on a hunt together, John! You do realise what that means, right?"

Yes, John knew what it meant. Communication breakdown between hunting partners was never a good thing. It led to accidents.

"I know my sons well and by proxy I know Emily. They'll sort it out." John was trying to convince himself. He was not very successful, because he knew that Bobby did indeed know his sons and his daughter, so if he was concerned, then he had a good reason to be.

"Before or after they get themselves killed on this hunt? Get Emily killed? They're your kids, John. Each is more stubborn than the other. Look at you and Sam. It was four years before you two talked again."

"He was out of line, Bobby!" John couldn't help himself even though he knew this was beside the point.

"Was he? Kids rebel, John! You as the parent have to act like the adult. It's probably documented somewhere that at least one of your kids will not want to be like you. Heck, you're lucky if its just one and not all of them. I mean, if you were a doctor, that would have instantly become the least noble profession in your children's eyes! One would probably become a butcher to spite you. If your dad is the President of the United States, the last thing you want to be is president, well unless you're Bush Junior. So you raise your kids the best you can, hope they'll follow in your footsteps, but if they don't, it's a testament to your parenting, not an insult. You should have been proud that you or rather Dean, raised a confident, independent young man, instead of acting like a petulant child whose feelings had been hurt. Now I suggest you head down to Oregon, before you lose those kids."

John was torn; he had to choose between his children and the hunt. He believed he was close to finding the colt and had just gotten a clue about Azazel's hideout. However, according to Bobby, his kids needed him.

His boys were two of the best hunters out there, and Emily … well time would tell, but from what he had seen when he'd been at the yard and what he'd heard from Pastor Jim, she was on her way to greatness. If anyone believed in his children's abilities more than John, it was Bobby, so for him to be worried was concerning to say the least. John trusted Bobby. The man's knowledge was unrivaled, his intuition and hunting skills impeccable. He had been a force to reckon with before he had decided to take a less active role in hunting. But John also acknowledged that Bobby had a major soft spot for the boys and for Emily. Maybe Bobby was just being a mother hen!

John decided he would check out the lead he had first, then he would head to Oregon to check on his kids, and set them straight. A camping trip complete with some serious training, maybe a mud run, would do them good anyway.


	33. Chapter 33

On the road, despite the continued silence between the siblings, the atmosphere in the car was slowly becoming less strained. Dean was humming along to the music playing; he of course always felt calmer when he was driving. Sam had lowered his window and was enjoying the breeze on his face and the passing scenery. Every so often, he glanced at the book on his lap. Emily too was enjoying the breeze coming in from Sam's open window, while she worked at a killer sudoku puzzle.

It was 2 p.m when they stopped for lunch and a bathroom break and Sam offered to drive as they left the diner. Dean said he was good for another three hours or so. Sam decided to take a nap so he could be ready to take over the driving later on. Emily succumbed to sleep, probably from boredom, at six.

Glancing in the rearview mirror at his sleeping sister, Dean suddenly felt a twinge of panic and he nearly woke Sam up because he thought it might develop into a heart attack. A few deep breaths, assured him he was not dying, but did nothing to allay his fear.

How the hell was he going to hunt with Emily in tow? He knew her enough to know she would raise hell if he suggested she do research and stay in the motel or the car during the actual hunt. It was hard enough hunting with Sam.

Not that Dean hated hunting with Sam. He didn't. Dean loved his brother, and for the most part enjoyed and welcomed his company. Sam could be moody and had a bitch face that any mean girl cheerleader would kill for, but he was amiable, witty and smart. And even though he complained a lot about their life, he was used to it and despite his moaning, he fitted in it perfectly. Dean thought Sam secretly loved the life but simply complained on principle.

The two of them were so used to being in each other's space, that they did not feel the cramped space of motel rooms or the lack of privacy that came with sharing a room, they sometimes wore each other's clothes and they shared similar tastes in movies and music, well, they had. Sam had evolved a little; he still liked the same things Dean did but he had added more to the list during their time apart.

What Dean did not like about hunting with Sam was the constant fear during a hunt. When Dean led, he worried something would attack from behind and take Sam. When he watched Sam's back, he worried that Sam would walk first into a dangerous situation. It had nothing to do with Sam's capabilities as a hunter. Sam was formidable as a hunter. After all, he had practically been born one. No, Dean's fear stemmed from his position as a big brother, a big brother who had practically been a guardian to his sibling. It was the constant and usually irrational worry of a parent for his child. The worry that parents felt when their child drove unsupervised for the first time, the worry parents of children leaving for college felt as they waved goodbye, the worry of a father of a pretty teenage girl going off for her first prom.

Now he would have two siblings to worry about. Knowing Emily was with Bobby had not made him worry less about her, in fact her being away from his sight had scared him more, but he knew it was for the best and had kept him sane during hunts.

He also wondered what hunting formation they were going to use. He and Sam hunted as a unit and each brother had a defined role. Even when they had hunted with their father, the two brothers were one unit, usually unit two with John as unit one.

Of course it hadn't always been this way. It had developed over time. When they were kids, John had gone off hunting on his own, leaving Dean behind to watch Sam. Then Sam had found and read John's journal. With the cat out of the bag, John had decided, he might as well use his trained, obedient soldier instead of having him babysitting. Dean shadowed his father during the hunts, providing immediate backup and learning the ropes of hunting until he and John were one unit. Sam was left behind in the car, something he didn't mind since he was a dork who loved his books. When Sam was old enough to join a hunt, the two shadowed John, and the three acted as one unit, but as they (read Sam) got older, wiser and better at hunting, John broke off to form unit one leaving the brothers working as unit two. Dean realised that even then, John had been planning to leave his sons. Bloody prepared, abandoning bastard!

Okay, so now that Emily was here, they were no longer a two man team, and Dean could never use the last formation with him as unit one and Sam and Emily as unit two. He was not as nonchalant a guardian as John was. No, the three of them would have to work as one unit. Of course hunts were unpredictable, so the three of them wouldn't always be physically together during every single moment in a hunt, but they would strategize together and each would have to accept and carry out his role.

Well, it was a plan, even though it was not ideal. In an ideal world, Emily wouldn't be on this hunt and in a just world, neither would Sam, but they were and Dean would do anything in his power to keep them safe.

He felt his heart finally settle.

Dean drove an extra hour, stopping to switch with Sam at 7 p.m. Emily offered to sit up front with Sam so Dean could have the backseat to stretch out. Dean was on the verge of refusing, having never been in the backseat as Sam drove, but he quickly realised Sam would not be alone at the front. This time, they were a threesome.

In the backseat, Dean made a pillow out of his jacket and hunkered down. He was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Silence reigned for nearly an hour, then completely out of the blue, a soft "I'm sorry!" spoken by Emily, hang in the air.

Sam glanced quickly at his sister. She was staring intently at her hands which were folded on her lap. For a moment, he thought he'd dreamt the words, but he noticed that the folded hands were visibly shaking. "For what?" he asked gently.

"For everything. For getting Bobby hurt, for making your dad compromise Dean's stand and for causing you and Dean to fight. I'm sorry, I didn't think that my actions would cause so much trouble. I tried to stay behind you know, but Dean wouldn't let me."

A stunned silence followed her apology. Sam could not believe she was feeling responsible for things that had nothing to do with her.

"Rae, despite what Dean said, you are not to blame for Bobby getting hurt. It was his hunt, not yours, and besides, hunters do get hurt on hunts. Your actions actually saved Bobby's life. Dean didn't mean what he said. He was just scared. Scared about what could have happened to you. That you could've been hurt. As for our dad, let's just say, he's not winning any father of the year awards ever! His decisions even those about us, are his decisions, not ours. You can't blame yourself even if you were the subject. And as for Dean and I …."

From the corner of his eye, he saw her turn to look at him, her body practically strumming with hope. It was evident that she felt most responsible about him and Dean fighting. Sam felt terrible. Poor kid, her last five days must have been spent drowning in a well of guilt about things that were not her fault.

He glanced into the rearview mirror at his sleeping brother. Like Emily, Dean blamed himself for everything. Suddenly, Sam realised and acknowledged that much of Dean's behaviour was due to nature and not nurture, and that Sam could not hope or even try to change him, just as he himself couldn't change his fundamental nature either.

In that moment Sam also realised that even though he was not to blame for its start, he was responsible for the continuance of this insane cold war between him and his siblings just like he had been responsible for the ridiculous length of the one between him and their father. By trying to get his siblings and father to act against their natures, he had inadvertently led to a stalemate.

Of the four, Sam was the most open about expressing his feelings. Getting Dean and John to open up was like pulling molars encased in concrete, and Emily was expressive but remarkably reserved at the same time. Though way more communicative than Dean or John, she would never spontaneously share her feelings or her thought processes. He had never known her to initiate a heart to heart, but once one was initiated, she would engage, and rather eloquently. For her to have optionally initiated such a moment now, was so out of character for her, that he wasn't surprised her hands had been shaking.

Sam felt terrible. Withdrawing his olive branch, and expecting his reticent siblings and father to open up without it, was stupid and counterproductive. It was like an avid swimmer waiting for a phobic swimmer to race along the plank and dive willingly into a pool. Neither swimmer would go anywhere. To move things along, the avid one would need to give the phobic one gentle pushes along the plank until they got to the edge and fell into the water. In this scenario, Dean and John were extremely phobic while Emily was more cautious than phobic. Sam was the one who provided the push. Without him, his family was unable to navigate their emotions.

"Well, the two of us were having problems long before that day. We had simply swept them under a rug, pretended they weren't there anymore, but the wind blew away the rug!" he finished his fractured sentence.

"Really? You're not just saying that?" she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Yes, really."

"But why were you mad at me?"

"I wasn't!" he was shocked.

"But you weren't talking to me!" she pointed out.

"Well, I was being a jerk. I wanted you to talk to me first."

"It's kind of hard for me to talk to people first," she confessed.

"Yes, I kinda noticed. That is why it was stupid and insensitive of me to expect you to. But you did it. You went out of character."

"Only because I promised Bobby I would."

Sam chuckled. Good 'ole Bobby. Then he realised another thing. Dean would never have made that promise, because nothing scared his brother more than exposing his feelings. He could slay any monster that crossed his path, but acknowledging and expressing his feelings scared him senseless. Even saying sorry was a stretch for Dean. In some ways, he and Emily were similar, but Emily was more open to trying. So maybe she could get Dean to talk. It was worth a try, besides, having someone doing some of the shoving for him couldn't hurt.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I want you to promise me one thing too," he told her.

"What?"

"That you will talk to Dean."

She bit the left of her lower lip, then twisted so she could look over the seat at Dean. She watched him sleep for a long moment and just as Sam was about to prompt her, she smiled a wry lopsided smile. "I promise." There was a beat of silence, then she laughed softly, "He's not going to like it though, that's for sure!"

Sam laughed as well. Yes, she understood Dean, well. He had made the right decision getting her to promise. "I'm sorry too. For being a jerk." he said after a while.

"No, I understand! Having to always be the reasonable one is hard and I know Dean and I can be difficult to deal with sometimes," she said gracefully, showing she not only understood Dean, she knew where Sam was coming from too .

Silence followed, and after a while, Emily began to doze, jerking awake comically every time her head slid and fell against his shoulder.

"I don't mind, you know!" he said after the sixth time she'd snapped awake and straightened up. She laughed self-consciously and he knew she wouldn't stop waking herself up. She was too fiercely independent. So the next time her head fell against his shoulder, he snapped out his arm and held her in place. He felt her stiffen.

"Hey, it doesn't mean you're needy!' he whispered then he let her go. She straightened back up. He sighed in defeat.

"So does that mean you won't mind if I drool on your lap?" she smiled after a moment.

Sam laughed. "If you're asking if you can sleep on my lap, yes, but I draw the line at drooling!"

She smiled, but it was another ten minutes before she scooted along the seat and rested her head on his right thigh, her legs tucked in very tightly to fit on the bench seat. Sam shook his head and smiled.

* * *

It was hours before Sam saw the small light in the backseat, indicating that Dean was up and checking his phone for the time.

"I told you to wake me up at midnight!" he spoke as he yawned. "It's 1:45!"

"So?" Sam said mildly.

"So you've been driving almost seven hours!"

God, sometimes, Sam thought that Dean believed Sam was still a child. "You drove for nearly nine!" he pointed out.

"Yeah, whatever!" then he noticed there was only one head up front. "Saaaaam?" he began slowly.

"Deeeeeean?" Sam said just as slowly.

"Where is Emily?"

"She wanted out so I left her about two miles back, in this little blink and miss it town." Sam could not resist messing with his brother.

"What?" Dean exploded. "You left our little sister in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night? Sam, turn back right now!" Already, Dean was blaming himself. He thought leaving Sam in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night that time after Rockford had made Sam think it was okay to leave Emily the same way. Damn, they were really messed up big brothers! He should have let Emily stay at the yard, when she changed her mind.

When Sam laughed, Dean was ready to jump over the seat and strangle him. "Relax Dean! I wouldn't. She's right here. Sleeping!" He bobbed his chin downward. He was actually surprised that she was still sleeping after Dean's outburst.

Dean leaned over the seat to see for himself, clearly not believing Sam. He smacked his little brother over the head for scaring him.

"That wasn't funny!" he groused.

Sam chuckled, "I'm sorry, that was a douchy thing to do, but it was funny!"

Dean let him laugh it out. "Pull over."

"What? Why?"

"Why? So I can take over."

"Dean, I'm not a child anymore!"

"I didn't say you were. Now pull over."

Sam pulled over. Dean got out of the back and wrenched the front door open. "Get out!"

"What about her?" Sam asked about Emily.

"Oh!" that effectively stopped Dean. He stood there and watched his siblings for a long moment. Just as he came up with a solution, the lack of movement registered in Emily's brain and she lifted her head.

"Are we there?" her voice was croaky with sleep.

"No. Dean just wants to take over the driving."

"Oh, Okay." Emily lowered her feet and sat up.

"You wanna take the backseat?" Dean asked her.

"Sam's much taller than I am!" she pointed out. "He needs it more."

Sam got out and into the backseat. Dean got behind the wheel and started the car. He could hear Sam turn in the backseat trying to get comfortable. "Hah, good luck, with those freakishly long legs!" Dean thought uncharitably. He discreetly glanced at Emily. She was valiantly fighting sleep but it was a battle she was going to lose obviously. Sleep won after twenty minutes, and her head fell on his shoulder. Dean found himself driving more carefully, not wanting to jar her. He knew she would be more comfortable sleeping the way she had before, but she would never allow it with him.

* * *

They got into Hobbs a little before 5 a.m. Dean stopped at the first diner he saw and woke up his siblings.

"Let's get breakfast first then look for a motel."

"A motel? What for? Thought we were just here for the ids?" Sam said in surprise.

"We need to clean up!" Dean said with a slight nearly imperceptible nod at Emily.

Emily caught the nod and immediately understood he was doing this for her. The two of them were used to rough living and used whatever amenities they found. Please, she had been a girl scout, she could handle anything.

"Hey, look, we don't have to get a motel just to clean up. We can clean up here, I'm sure there are washrooms in there! Unless you want to wash your hair or something!" she challenged them.

"You don't mind?" Dean was shocked.

"There's nothing to it. It'll save a bit of money, since we're relying on your hustled earnings." It still rankled that she could not use her cards now. They would have come in handy, made life easier. However, the boys and Bobby had forbidden her from using any of them. No one was looking for her that way, but it was better to be safe.

They slammed out of the car and went to its trunk. Each grabbed a tee and a toiletry bag, with the boys' bags being considerably smaller than hers. Once inside, they split up.

She headed to the girl's bathrooms. She quickly stripped down to her bra and undies, and run a wet wash cloth over her body, she applied lotion and deodorant and dressed up again, this time in a different tee but the same sweatshirt, jacket and jeans. She cleansed her face and brushed her teeth while eyeing her hair that was threatening to frizz. She wet it, run her fingers through it and surprisingly, it didn't look half bad. She packed up, folded her tee under her armpit and headed out to the diner.

Dean was already there. He had ordered breakfast for them all and was hidden behind a newspaper. She expressed her thanks and sat across from him and sipped her coffee. Sam came out three minutes after her. Emily was surprised Dean didn't make a crack about Sam taking longer than an actual girl to get ready. Maybe be was tired. Of the three, he had had the least sleep.

* * *

Everyone groaned at the thought of getting back into the car so Dean suggested they walk to Fabio's which was about forty minutes by foot. They chucked their clothes and toiletry bags back into the car and set off.

At first they walked abreast with Emily between the brothers, but after a while, Dean started lagging behind his siblings. He watched them. Sam's head was tilted slightly towards Emily as the two talked, both smiling at whatever they were talking about. They looked so young and carefree, and obliviously unaware, it was hard to believe they were hunters, one more tested than the other, but both lethal nevertheless. While glad they were getting along again, Dean felt a little left out. He sighed and followed along behind them.

Fabio's was a tattoo parlour, but that was a front for the real work the man did. Emily had never met anyone like Fabio. He was 5'4" so they all towered over him considerably, he was obviously Italian, but spoke with an affected British accent and exaggerated hand gestures. She wondered how the Winchesters had crossed paths with him.

"Well, aren't you a tall glass of water! John did not say you were as pretty as a picture! Guess I should have guessed. After all, the rascal has got great taste in women!" he greeted them.

Blushing furiously at the small man, Emily looked to her brothers to see how they handled the situation.

Dean laughed. "She's taller than you, Fabio!"

"So what? I'm a very secure man!" he grinned.

"Don't we know it! But she's our BABY sister so drag your tongue back into your mouth."

The two shook hands, then he turned to Sam.

"Good to see you kid. John told me about your girlfriend, I'm sorry."

Sam responded with a slight head duck then shook the man's hand as well. Emily extended her hand and squeaked in surprise when he pulled her into a hug.

"This one here should be a model, not a hunter!" he said as he released her.

"Try convincing her!" Dean said with feeling.

"I take it you're not sold on the idea." Fabio laughed as he scurried around getting lights and other things. "Sit!" he told Emily pointing to a stool in the middle of the room. "Okay, let's see those ears!"

Sam and Dean smirked. If there was anything Emily did not like about herself, it was her ears … and her forehead. She thought her ears too small, and her forehead too high. Her brothers both thought she was perfect the way she was. Too perfect if you asked them. She didn't.

She grudgingly tucked her hair behind her ears exposing them. He took a couple of pictures, measured her height, and weight and asked her birthdate. She told him.

"02nd July? Would you look at that! You were born smack in the middle of the year!"

For Emily this had a big significance. She knew she had been born on her biological mother's birthday, but it had never crossed her mind that she had been born in the middle of the year too. So even her birthdate had significance as the 'balance'! No wonder Gregory had been convinced that Celeste was the balance as she too had been born on 02nd July.

"Two months early, and we would have had the same birthday!" Sam exclaimed. The boys had not read all the letters in the box, hadn't read about the 'balance' and all that crazy stuff, so the date really wasn't noteworthy for them.

"You won't be able to pull off FBI and other agencies because you're too young looking, but I'll see what I can do. Boys, do you need anything?"

"No, we're good." Dean answered.

Fabio shooed them out and asked them to return in a couple of hours.

* * *

With two hours to kill and no motel room to go to for a nap or a TV marathon, the siblings walked aimlessly, until they chanced upon a video arcade which amazingly was open and a bookstore two shops away from it. For Dean, there was no contest, he chose the arcade. For Emily, who could have gone either way, choosing the arcade was not that surprising, but for Sam to forgo the bookstore with its super-comfy armchairs and books, and chose the arcade, was a huge surprise. Dean raised his eyebrow at that.

They individually drifted from game to game for about thirty minutes until Dean discovered bloody roar 3 which they spent the next hour playing together. By the time they returned to Fabio's they were each extolling the superiority of their characters.

Emily loved her new ids. According to all of them, she was twenty-one, a fact she welcomed with undisguised joy.

"Guess that makes us twins!" she laughed at Sam.

"Well, I'm 21 only on my college ones which are just two. The rest range from 24 to 26!" he smirked at her. "You don't even have an FBI one!" His eyes twinkled.

"Well, I can legally drink!" she announced.

"Not on my watch!" Dean put out the spark before it ignited. She resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at him as that would reinforce the idea that she was a child.

Many of the cards retained her first name but all had different last names. She smiled at some of the more outrageous names and quickly discovered some of the cards had last names that matched with her brothers' fake last names. There were driving licenses, college cards, and work ids. She had technician, reporter, nurse and public relations agent cards and even a masseuse card! Dean wanted to destroy this last card so bad, but he did not want to insult Fabio.

They thanked the man and walked back to the car, stopping halfway to buy a six pack of beer at Emily's insistence. She was not really interested in the alcohol, she simply wanted to test drive one of her new ids. Both brothers grinned at her elation as she disappeared into the shop. To their great relief, she bought a couple of cokes and 7ups in addition to the beer.

* * *

She offered to drive and surprisingly Dean let her. Sam sat up front with her, helping with navigation. They did not stop for lunch, choosing instead to snack in the car and despite her objections, Sam took over after she'd driven six hours. He drove for eight before Dean took over for the final nine into Pendleton and checked them into a motel. The beds were singles, but the presence of a pull out couch made up for their size. Each sibling would have a bed when night rolled around and the hunt was finished. Since the couch was the farthest from the door, it was designated as Emily's. She did not object as she knew this was established procedure, from long before she joined the family.

Dean elected to have a shower after which he announced the water had not been hot to begin with, and was now quite cool. Emily and Sam would have to wait a while to have a shower. He turned on the TV for background noise as they sat down to make the gris-gris bags.

No one spoke as they made the bags. Emily was concentrating on getting the measurements just right while the boys were remembering the last hunt they had used the bags.

That hunt had been the first time Sam had told Dean about the dreams he was having, the dreams that came true. It was the first time Dean had admitted his distress over the events that had led to them leaving Kansas all those years ago. In just a couple of words, he had communicated his never before acknowledged agony to Sam. It was on that hunt that Dean realised their father had really abandoned them. When his phone call had gone unanswered, Dean had left a message but John had never called back. It was on that hunt that their mother's spirit had sacrificed itself for them.

The bags had not worked to get rid of the poltergeist on that hunt, yet by all accounts, they should have. Every book they had read since then, suggested it was the best way to get rid of one. Bobby had found a document that adviced burning sage incense in the exact centre of the house before placing the bags and they had decided to do it this time, to increase the potency of the bags.

With the bags made, Dean watched TV while his siblings both seated on Sam's bed killed time on their computers. The two were obviously communicating using their computers because Sam snickered at something on his screen, hit a couple of buttons on his keyboard and Emily a few minutes later was snorting at her own computer screen.

Later, the two got serious and when she found the floor plan for Madeline's house, Emily shared it with Sam who called Dean over and the three strategised the hunt.

They would have to burn the sage in the great room which was the centre of the house then when it burnt out, they would move onto placing the bags. Since these bags had to be placed in four corners, one of them had to take two rooms. Saying their partnership was not a democracy, Dean elected to be the one doing double duty. Sam would take the master suite, Emily would be in one of the three smaller bedrooms, and Dean would be across the house tackling the garage and the guest room / den.

At 6 p.m, on the way to get dinner, Dean called Madeline, the woman with the poltergeist problem, and informed her they would be there at about eleven.

Dinner was a quick affair in a greasy diner that Sam and Emily were glad to be out of. Both planned to have a shower when they got back to the motel. Sam shot through the door and into the bathroom before Emily had cleared the threshold. "Hey! Not fair! What happened to ladies first?" Emily protested.

"Well, why do you think he's going in first?" Dean quipped with a gleam in his eyes that Emily hadn't seen in a while.

"You snooze, you lose!" Sam said as he slammed the door behind himself.

An awkward silence followed the closing of the door. Emily didn't understand it. She and Dean fought all the time, playfully about mundane things like cars, food, movies, and fiercely about serious topics like training and hunting, but they always bounced back rather easily, with no awkwardness and rarely with any apologizes from either one. They simply just carried on like the fight had never happened. This time, it was different. She tried to think back to when he had started freezing her out. She realised with a start that the big freeze had started even before they had had the blow out at the yard.

Something had to give and even though her stubborn pride decreed it wouldn't be her, her logic knew it wouldn't be Dean either and her goodwill decided that she needed to. Truth be told, she missed Dean.


	34. Chapter 34

"It's not the hunt is it?" Emily began.

"What?"

"The reason you're shutting me out. I know it's not the hunt. What is it? What did I do?"

"What? Nothing!"

Standing there, Emily did not know what she was going to say but she needed to say something. Anything. She just opened her mouth and the words just stringed together.

"Look, Dean, I love you and I trust you completely and unconditionally, but the relationship between me and you is not like the one you have with Sam. I realise it's because of a few factors. First, for nearly eighteen years, I was an only child, with rather easygoing parents, and so I was and still am self-sufficient and very independent. Besides my parents, I only ever really depended on one person and that was me. Yes, I had friends that I absolutely loved, shared everything with and was blindly loyal to, but I never completely relied on them. When I turned sixteen, my parents gave me nearly absolute control of my life. I kept most of my problems to myself, dealt with the smaller ones on my own, made my own decisions most of the time and generally managed my life myself. I only got support from my mum and dad when I specifically wanted it or when I was in over my head and they invoked their parental rights. Then suddenly they were gone. As soon as I turned eighteen, I hit the road and I was all alone for two months, and unaccountable to no one, which suited me just fine. I decided where I wanted to go, when to go, and what to do and I never had to check in with anyone. Then Bobby, you and Sam came along. I guess I find it easy to defer to Bobby because he's like a dad and I had one of those for seventeen years, but while I totally enjoy having brothers and I love you guys, I'm only learning how to be a sibling. You and Sam have always had each other, the bond between the two of you has been defined and refined over the years, while ours is still being defined. Maybe one day, we'll be able to understand each other implicitly, but until then, we need to communicate with each other. It does not have to be touch-feely or anything, but we have to talk to each other. It's the only way you and I will to get to that implicit understanding without having to wait for twenty-one years of being siblings. You're the oldest, so you're obviously used to being in charge, and you're the resident caretaker. Well I as an only child. I was more or less like you, only I was in charge of just myself, not siblings. For lack of a better word, we're both alpha people!"

A startled laugh escaped Dean's mouth.

'What?" Emily puzzled.

"Nothing, just something I imagined!"

"You'd better not just have pictured us as lions!" she exclaimed. The look on his face was a dead giveaway. "You did, didn't you?"

He nodded sheepishly.

"Oh, you're so lame and you're a bigger dork than you think you are!" She burst out laughing and after a moment he joined her.

The shower turned off. She looked at him. She would follow his lead on this one. He nodded towards the door and walked out. She followed him outside. They sat on the steps in companionable silence, then after a while, he waved her on to continue. It took her a moment of reflection to get back on track.

"So yeah, I was saying, the two of us are still adjusting to each other's personalities and learning each other's foibles. This brings me to point two or is it three? Eer ... anyway, you should also remember I am still adapting to having not one, but two protective older brothers. Granted, Sam is less bossy than you, but he too can be intense. I'm not used to it, but I'm learning to accept it without too much indignation and contention. By the way, I know it's hard for you too. Suddenly having two younger siblings to look after can't be easy, but you've got to cut yourself some slack. Both Sam and I are adults, and I've looked after myself for years. Last, and most important, I'm a girl!"

At this, Dean rolled his eyes, but he did not interrupt. Emily smiled, encouraged by his willingness to listen to her nonsense thus far.

"I know you're thinking duh! But yeah, I am a girl. I have different needs at different times. Sometimes I'll be fragile and I'm not ashamed to say a little needy, but other times, I'll be miss independent with a chip on my shoulder and a point to prove. I won't always be an amazon, but I won't be sobbing on your shoulders all the time either. Sometimes I'll need you to prop me upright, sometimes I'll be alright without your help. When I do need help, I'll try not be too hotheaded and ask for it, but remember it's hard for me to do. So I might not always ask for help or advice, but feel free to invoke your big brother rights even though I might moan and pitch fits about it. You're my brother, I know you love me, but I expect you to call me out over any foolishness I pull, tell me off and yell at me, and tell me I told you so, and be a jerk. You're allowed to get mad at me Dean, but please don't shut me out. I can take a lot of things, but I can't take you shutting me out. So please tell me, what did I do wrong?"

Dean sighed. He liked that Emily talked about such emotional things without sounding so mushy. She spoke flippantly but with feeling. Also because she was an actual girl, he felt he could talk to her without worrying about being called girly. Besides, she'd been honest with him, and considering her personality, that must have been as hard for her as it would be for him.

"It's kind of stupid," he started self consciously. He did not know what to say, didn't know how to explain, but he decided to wing it.

"Umm … it's a big brother thing. I know you are tough, I've seen it, heaven knows I've felt it, but when I look at you, all I see is this delicate, fragile little girl who I need to look after. It's the same with Sam. He's an adult, has been for three years, he's a hunter to be reckoned with, he's quick and smart and strong; heck he's three inches taller than me, but when I look at him, I still see a five year old who was terrified of thunder storms. A child who jumped into my bed and held on tight, secure in the knowledge that I would keep him safe."

He took a fortifying breath, now that he had started, the words were flowing rather easily. "Protection is the one thing I was always good for. Sam and I of course have a relationship beyond protected and protector, we are brothers. Like you said, we've had years to work on the dynamics of our relationship, and we take it for granted that no matter what happens, we'll always be brothers. With you, I don't know. At the yard, before we left for Cali, I was sure we were siblings, but that night in Bobby's room I began to doubt whether you saw it that way. When you charged me, and bawled me out for not calling you, then cried in my arms, I felt like the worst brother. Yet when you turned to Sam, you were all smiles and laughs. I realised then that the only thing I could offer you was protection, unlike Sam who could also be your brother. You're my sister and I'll protect you, whether you want me to or not, so I figured, I could be your protector without being your brother. So that distance was …" he trailed off. Out loud it really was stupid and insecure.

"Was you giving me what you thought I wanted." Emily finished for him. She was surprised he had been that honest. She had been expecting deflection and deception.

There was silence as each got lost in their thoughts.

She thought back to that night and understood how he could have drawn such a wacky conclusion. She'd attacked and punched him, then joked and laughed with Sam. It did look like favoritism. It really hadn't been.

"I know I'm going to regret this, but what I want is my annoying, obnoxious brother with the bad jokes and and childish pranks!" she quipped after the silence had stretched on too long.

He smiled thinly. He wanted to believe her, but was held back by his memories, by his insecurities.

Emily saw his weak smile, knew it was not in character, because he should have protested her crack at him. She realised she needed to explain her behaviour that night in order for him to get past it. But first, she needed to analyse and understand it herself.

* * *

Until the night in the woods, she had never been responsible for anyone else's life or safety. She had never had to be strong for anyone but herself. So having Bobby's life and then his wellbeing in her hands had been new, and terrifying. Knowing that a mistake on her part could cost a man his life had been a heavy burden, but she had endured. It had taken everything from her though. Added to this was the fear of not knowing if her brothers were okay. When they had walked through the door, she had turned to the one person she needed most at the time, Dean.

She loved both her brothers, trusted them both, equally. They were both strong, dependable and kind and with all factors constant, she interacted with them equally. However, when her world was out of balance, when she was at the end of her strength, she turned to Dean. It was a knee-jerk reaction, a subconscious response.

She supposed it was because Dean had been a big brother all his life while Sam was new to it. So in her mind, Dean came more equipped.

Sure Sam was just as strong and resilient as Dean, something that was demonstrated during the rare times the brothers' roles of protector and protected seemed to be reversed. But Emily knew that no matter what, Sam would always be the younger brother, the protected, because even during the role reversals, Dean still mentally protected his brother. In those rare moments when Dean showed Sam his pain, physical or otherwise, and let himself be looked after, he always held some of it back. He knew his brother's limits, knew how much Sam could handle, and so never lay it all completely on him. No, Dean did not lean quite as hard, he didn't open his soul quite as wide. Yes, even as the protected, Dean retained his protector role.

Also, Emily knew from the stories the boys had told at Bobby's that it was Dean and his strength and his stubborn faith that had kept the Winchester family from falling apart, not John. Dean was the strongest of them all. He could take so much more than his father and brother before he folded.

Emily was smart and capable and independent but sometimes she needed someone to lean on. With Dean around, she did not need to be so strong anymore. She could let go.

To Sam, she turned for comfort. He was strong, no doubt about it, and in Dean's absence could take up the protector mantle very easily, but his greatest gift was the ability to comfort, to soothe. His empathy flowed out of him through his touch and his eyes and he always knew what to say and what not to say.

Both brothers gave her security, but in different ways.

When Dean held her, she felt like nothing could ever get to her past him, nothing could hurt her, nothing could reach her. She felt protected and her strength was replenished.

When Sam held her, she felt like there was a chance that all the bad in the world could become good, she felt hope, the pain went away. She felt comforted and her faith was renewed.

With both her brothers, she felt love and belonging, and when she was whole again as she usually was, the dynamics between her and them returned to normal. Back to the teasing, the bickering, the snarking, the pranks, the normal sibling interaction.

Except of course the sibling interaction had not normalised this time. Sam had eased back quickly; by the time they left the hospital, he was a big brother again, as evidenced by the elevator madness, but Dean hadn't eased back. He had started acting like a bodyguard, impersonal and aloof, still committed to keeping her safe, but not like the protective brother who drove her mad sometimes, but who she loved dearly.

Then later at the yard, they had had the row and she too had retreated into her shell. When she'd re-emerged later, he had gone back to aloof and she didn't understand why, Sam was also avoiding her and she didn't know why, and the two brothers were not talking either. She of course had never before had to deal with sibling conflict and had always gravitated away from drama queens and situations she couldn't control, so she didn't know what to do or how to approach either brother, so she had left them alone and the silence had grown.

Emily knew it wasn't just her actions that had caused Dean's reaction. No, that reaction was a result of a combination of her actions and Dean's state of mind.

Dean of course not knowing her thought process, did not understand how she perceived him and Sam and their relationship with her. All he saw was a sister who blamed him and absolved Sam for the same thing. It had cut a wound in his heart, a wound whose existence he would never acknowledge. He would ignore it, and let it fester. Another hole through his self worth. There were many holes there, gaping holes. Having listened intently to their stories of their growing years, she knew that most of the holes had been placed there unintentionally by John over the years. During those times when the man had unwittingly favoured one son over the other. Times when he'd hugged one son and berated the other, who was himself just a boy, for not protecting his brother.

Dean's self worth had been so damaged, it was being held together by the only two purposes he now had. The first, the only purpose he had had for twenty-one years was Sam, protecting Sam at all costs had been his mantra all that time. Then out of the blue, he had been given a second purpose, her.

When he had learnt about her, he knew he had to protect her the way he protected Sam. At first that had meant keeping his distance, but that had not worked out as planned. Suddenly she was not an abstract idea but a person, an actual human being that he found himself liking, and possibly loving. She loved him back of course, but until today, she had never told him, never told either of them. She had simply figured they knew it. After all, they too, did not go around professing their love for each other. She could now understand how he might not have been completely sure of it, and that night in the hospital, she might as well have told him she didn't love him, only needed him.

He did not know that she was a living breathing cliché; she did not love him because she needed him, but needed him because she loved him.

* * *

A significant amount of time had passed as Emily sorted her memories, thoughts and feelings. Of course she couldn't tell him any of that. He was skittish about heart to hearts and they had already filled his quota for the day, even month. If she articulated what she'd been thinking, he would run for the hills and drown himself in a river!

So instead she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to attack you or to even cry. It's just that I had been so scared and so worried and I was tired, and completely tapped out, then suddenly you two were there and I was so relieved to see you, and I was so happy. I guess the different emotions completely overwhelmed me, and they just came out that way. It was like a nervous breakdown of sorts. In retrospect, I should have been less melodramatic, I know you were tired too."

"We were more worried than tired, trust me! Jim's phone cut out before he could tell us what had exactly happened, so all we knew was that you were in the hospital with Bobby because a hunt had gone south. When we tried your phone and it was off, we imagined the absolute worst. When we walked in and saw you sitting in that chair, you have no idea how relieved we were!"

"Except you didn't punch me out!" Emily laughed.

"Maybe next time we will, to show how happy we are that you're fine!" he grinned at her. "you really do pack a wallop by the way!"

"What? Surely I didn't hurt you? Me, itty bitty girl … you, big strong warrior!" she grinned back.

"Cheeky Punk!" he bumped her shoulder hard and since she was not expecting it, she began to topple and he grabbed her and held her to his side.

"Crazy Jerk!" she freed her arm, that was squashed against his side and looped it around him. She could not resist some extra sappiness. "I love you."

Dean wanted to ask why, but he did not want to sound needy and girly so he held his tongue. He had to award a point for female intuition, because Emily added, "And I don't need a reason. I just do. And right now, I'm glad we're okay. I really missed you!"

"Love you too and you're so going to regret asking for me back!" Dean's mouth quirked cheekily. A piece of his torn soul, repaired and restored.

Emily sighed theatrically, "I know!"

* * *

Inside the house, Sam smiled and turned away. Dean and Emily were okay. So maybe there was hope for him and Dean too. Granted their issues were darker than the one between Emily and Dean, but there was hope. He just needed courage to talk to his brother.

He had also never realised that Dean was that insecure about being loved. That he measured his worth in terms of his usefulness; that he felt invaluable unless he was beneficial. No wonder he worked so hard at being needed.

Sam also realised that nothing in his brother's life had allowed him to feel otherwise. Certainly not their father who seemed to only pay attention to him when he wanted him for something. Sam knew John loved Dean, loved them both, but he never said it, rarely showed it. Dean probably imagined that in John's world, he was only good as back up on hunts, as a stand-in father for Sam and as a referee between John and Sam. As far back as Sam could remember, John would only pat Dean on the back if he had achieved something. He'd never pulled Dean into a random hug or ruffled his hair just because he'd passed close to him.

Of course Dean would say these actions were girly, but that was a defense mechanism; he said it so it wouldn't hurt so much if he never got hugged. Dean's utterances were a real life case of 'the lad doth protest too much' and Sam should have noticed earlier, because for someone so against touchy-feely behavior, Dean had until that night in Rum River, been remarkably demonstrative in his affection for Emily. Sam had figured it was because Emily was a girl, so there was less of a stigma about expressiveness and he was right, but now he realised it was also Dean's way of filling up his love tank and validating his self-worth without having to slay the proverbial dragon first. No wonder he had been so hurt when he thought Emily didn't love him back. Yet, he had still been willing to be needed. Sam didn't know whether his brother was extremely loyal or extremely damaged.

Sam realised with a jolt that John was not the only culprit. Sam, who had taken his brother's steadfast presence for granted was as much to blame for Dean's low self-worth as his father. Sam loved Dean, and he showed it, or at least, he thought he did. However, thinking about it now, he realised he might have simply reinforced the idea that Dean was worthy only if he was useful. Dean probably thought younger Sam had loved him because he had hugged him after nightmares, had beaten up bullies for him, had watched out for him during hunts and stitched him up after hunts. Because, when it appeared that Sam no longer needed Dean, he'd gone off to college, to better things and had only returned because he needed Dean's hunting prowess. No, despite loving his brother with all his heart, Sam was no better than John when it came to treating Dean right.

Sam needed to validate Dean's existence, as a person, and as a brother, and not just as a protector. But how would he do it? If he randomly ever tried to hug Dean, he would probably get a shove or a punch in the face and be called Samanta. Dean was the only one allowed to initiate hugs which he did only when he was reassuring himself about Sam's wellbeing. If Sam ever said 'I love you' to Dean, he would get a snarky reply, unless either one of them was hovering at death's door and possibly not even then.

Sam was thankful for Emily. She seemed to know how to talk to Dean without him bolting or shutting down and retreating behind his wall of wit and quips and other deflections. She was straightforward without being curt, and affectionate without being sappy or too emotional, and most importantly, Dean responded to her. When Sam tried, he got shot down, ignored, teased or snarked at. Sam then reacted with snark, and sometimes anger, making Dean retreat even further and the damn cycle continued.

When Emily had told Dean that she loved him, Sam, without being in close proximity with his brother, had actually felt Dean's uncertainty. He had waited for a snarky, self-deprecating reply from his brother, but none had come. Then without prompting, Emily had said something that had made Sam love her more if that was even possible. She had reassured Dean, just by telling him she loved him simply because she loved him. Sam had heard the acceptance and joy in Dean's reply. Instinctively, he knew some of the darkness in his brother's heart had disappeared.

Yes, Sam was glad Emily had come into their lives, because maybe, just maybe she might teach Dean to love the one person he did not love and make him fight for the one person he thought unworthy of saving. Himself.

* * *

When the two entered the room nearly an hour later, Sam was on his computer. He looked up at them, said a quiet hey and returned to his pass-time. Emily went to have a shower. It seemed redundant since they were going on a hunt, but her brothers had both had showers, and it seemed wrong for her, a girl not to have one.

* * *

**A/N: One more relationship to fix now!**


	35. Chapter 35

The sprawling house stood on over an acre of gated estate. They had to be buzzed in. Dean parked the car right outside the house whose door was flung open by an eager woman as they got out of the car.

Madeline, who reminded all three Winchesters of Martha Stewart, greeted them warmly, though she looked a little taken back at first. She guessed the boys' names correctly, and led them into the house. Despite its size and fanciness, the house was cosy. She showed them the rooms they were interested in. From the pictures on the mantle, they could tell she had two teenaged children, a boy and a girl and a little girl of about five. She did not volunteer any information about them or their whereabouts. Her husband was away on business, but he was aware and approved of today's activities. It seems the poltergeist was targeting him particularly and he had consented to Madeline calling John when the thing had tried to pin him under his car. Madeline left the house after fifteen minutes, waving nervously and wishing them luck.

They watched until she drove out of the gate then turned to get the tools of their trade from the impala's trunk.

"The last poltergeist we took on came after us, and I'm sure this one will too. Splitting up is an advantage because it can't come after all of us at once. It's also a disadvantage because you won't have immediate backup so you have to watch your back. Stay alert, be quick." Dean told Emily as they straightened up.

Emily nodded and quickly put her hair in a messy french braid and pinned it to the top of her head. The three headed back into the house. Sam produced the sage incense and Dean lit it. They stood in a tight circle round it, waiting for it to burn out.

The falling chandelier was the first sign that the poltergeist was not going to take even this part of the proceedings lightly. They jumped out of the way escaping death by chandelier by milliseconds. Dean quickly scrambled back, uncovered and lit the incense again.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as a force flung him hard into the glass door which promptly broke and rained down on him. He rolled into a ball and shielded his head.

"You okay?" both Sam and Emily yelled as they too headed to the centre to relight the sage.

Dean waved them on. "How much longer before we can to move on?"

"We need it to burn for three consecutive seconds without it being extinguished!" Sam informed him.

"Easier said than done!" Emily grunted as her head connected with the wall a second later. She groaned and shook her head clear. "Damn, this shit was real!" She had finally understood what people meant by seeing stars.

Fortunately by the time the poltergeist flung her away, she had lit the incense and Sam had kept it lit and when he was tossed aside, Dean was already there. So the sage had burnt for the required three seconds.

"Go, go, go!" Dean commanded.

They scrambled to their feet, Emily a little slower than her brothers; she was still suffering from the hit her head had taken. She went left after Sam as their rooms were to the left of the house.

The poltergeist targeted Dean first, probably because he had run off alone. In the garage that doubled as a store for some things, it turned on the gun nail and shoot at him. It was too late to do anything but throw up a hand to shield his face. Three nails embedded in his left arm before the gun fortunately run out of nails.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean howled. He didn't dare pull out the nails because he did not have the time to look for appropriate dressings to bind the wounds which would obviously bleed like a bitch if unplugged. The poltergeist was now throwing rather heavy things at him. This ended up being his salvation when the evil thing threw a dumbbell at his head. He dodged the dumbbell and it crashed into the wall creating a sizeable hole there. Wonderful! Dean tossed the gris gris bag in and without waiting to see what the poltergeist would do, he tore out of the garage, tripping over a ladder that had fallen in his way. He cursed loud and long as he picked himself up and raced to the utility room. He hoped his siblings were done or almost done because he knew it had gone after one of them.

As Emily had raced to her designated room, she had seen golf clubs in the airing cupboard that Madeline had forgotten to close and she had decided to grab one. Swinging a golf club would be way more effective than wielding a hammer. Though it was easier to hit the same point repeatedly with the latter than the former, she knew she was rather accurate with her swing. Besides it would be easier for her to react and deflect if she was standing with a club than if she was kneeling on the ground with a hammer. She had just managed to put a decent hole in the wall when she heard something drag, then stop. It crossed her mind that something heavy had been lifted and when she turned to look, she found the pink dresser hurtling towards her.

She flung herself out of the way, but the corner of the dresser still grazed her temple. She was knocked out for a brief moment.

That brief loss of consciousness probably saved her life because the poltergeist moved on. If it had thrown anything else at her, she wouldn't have been able to move quite as fast as before. When she tried to stand, the dizziness floored her.

"God!" she exclaimed that way for probably the first time in her life. She slowly crawled back to the hole she had made and put the bag in there. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes trying to get rid of the headache that was blooming there. It occurred to her that Sam might need help next and she should drag herself over to check on him. Earlier, she had heard Dean yell, then swear. She hoped he was okay. In a minute she would go and check on Sam.

Sam had surveyed the room he was in when Madeline was showing them around and knew there were so many potentially dangerous things in it. No thanks, he did not want to be killed by the rotating blades of that ceiling fan, and he had eyed the two bedside lamps malevolently, remembering the physical pain of being unable to draw air into his lungs back in Kansas when the cord of the lamp had been strangling the life out of him. Any of those dressers, could crush him to death, that bedside table could seriously brain him and wait, was that a letter opener?

He had rushed into the room with his hammer already drawn, he was not going to waste time. When he heard Dean yell, Sam's heart leapt into his throat and he ruthlessly attacked the wall with the hammer. His brother's eloquent curses a few moments later assured him Dean was still alive, but the sound of something very heavy hitting the wall in the room across and the following silence had reversed his feeling of relief.

Two beats later he still hadn't heard anything in the other room, but at least he was almost done, he would soon be able to check on Emily. He threw the hammer aside and reached into his pocket for the gris gris bag. He did not notice the pillow floating off the bed until it was right above his head. By then it was too late; he only had time to shove the bag in the hole he had made before the pillow was pressed against his face. He smashed his head hard against the floor as he fell back.

"Not this shit again" he thought as he scrambled to remove the pillow from his face. Why did every evil thing they encountered try to kill him up close? Was it a proof of death thing? He was sure this poltergeist had just flung things, albeit dangerous things, at Dean and Emily, but when it came to him, the thing came in for a personal kill. The Kansas one had been the same way. He hoped whichever sibling hadn't yet placed the bag in the wall would do so soon or he was going to bite it in the stupidest way for a hunter. Hunters died bloody and gory, not suffocated by a pillow! His struggles to dislodge the pillow weakened as his lungs began to burn. He passed out before the heat in his chest got unbearable.

Dean had no trouble in the utility room. He knew that was because the poltergeist was terrorizing his siblings. When he put the bag in the wall, there was an eerie keening sound that gradually subsided to nothingness as well as a bright light that dimmed slowly until it was gone; nothing like the swift dramatics of Kansas. He was sure this poltergeist was gone for good and just in time too because blood was beginning to ooze past the nails in his arm and he knew that was not good. He thanked God he had his tetanus booster shots regularly. He would need one now of course, because these wounds were likely deep.

He slid against the wall, until he hit the ground, then drawing his left leg up, he cradled his injured arm on the raised knee. The fact that his gris gris bag had done the trick meant it was the last to go into the wall, which meant his siblings had placed theirs and hence were okay. However, after a minute passed and there was no sign of them, he knew they were in trouble. He got to his feet and went to find them.

He found Emily slumped next to a broken dresser, and a badly damaged wall. His heart stopped beating until he knelt in front of her and saw she was breathing. Gently capping her head with both his hands, he called her name a couple of times. She opened her eyes slowly and blinked blearily at him several times.

"Did it work? Is it gone?"

"Yeah, you okay?" he asked.

"Uuh? My head hurts," she said a little querulously.

"What happened?"

"I got beamed by the dresser!"

Shit! Right after being thrown into a wall in the great room during the sage burning. This was not good. He run a hand over her head until he found the goose egg by the side of her head right above the right ear. Oh shit, this was really not good. Head hits were never good but side head hits were particularly bad.

He considered the symptoms that had presented and those that hadn't. On the positive side, she knew what had happened, she was talking, her speech was not slurred and looking around he saw she had not thrown up. However, even without a flashlight, he could see her pupils were unequal, she had lost consciousness or fallen asleep, or even both, he was not sure, and from the way she was frowning at him, he knew she was dizzy. The words she uttered next scared him.

"What are you standing behind?"

"Why?" he asked after swallowing the lump in his throat.

"You're all blurry!"

Dean cradled her neck in the crook of his injured arm, slid his left under her knees and got to his feet. She did not object to being carried and that scared Dean more than he would ever admit. He wanted his crazily independent sister back.

"Are we leaving? Where's Sam?" she asked.

That is what Dean was going to find out. He carried Emily across the corridor to the next room.

"No! Oh God, Sammy!" he sobbed.

"Dean?" Emily breathed, trying to turn and see what had distressed her unflappable brother. Dean held her in place. He couldn't protect her from much, but he could at least protect her from that image. Besides, he did not want one sibling to get in his way as he helped the other.

The sight of his brother lying so still with a pillow over his face had turned Dean's legs to jelly and it took all his willpower to walk to the bed and lay Emily on it. She sat up as fast as her dizziness would allow her to. By that time Dean was already kneeling on the floor, his back to her, obstructing her view of Sam's upper body. She could however make out Sam's torso and legs. He wasn't moving. She felt her heart leap into her throat.

"Is he okay?" she whispered.

"He will be!" Dean answered with all the assurance in the world. He had better be or Dean was going to kick his ass. Emily believed him. In a crisis, his siblings always believed him. Their faith in him always amazed him and it was humbling, bolstering and just a tad unnerving. Of course when everything was peachy, they called him out on his big brother power trips, never once acknowledging they were the ones who fed his ego.

"You're bleeding!" she finally noticed.

"I'm okay! Now lay back down but stay awake, you hear?" he practically demanded, not turning back even once.

"Okay!" she gingerly lowered herself back on the bed. It was a measure of how poorly she was feeling that she did not dissent.

Dean had quickly skidded across the room and fallen by his brother's side. He took the pillow off Sam's face and threw it across the room.

Ignoring the pain that was now radiating from the nail wounds, Dean ripped Sam's flannel shirt open then used the letter opener to poke a hole in the tee underneath, and tore it to expose his brother's chest. The thirty chest compressions, made the pain in his arm explode and caused his wounds to bleed onto Sam's chest, but he didn't care. He tilted Sam's head back and breathed twice into his mouth. He returned to the compressions. Then he breathed for his brother. It was on the third try, just as Dean was tiring, that Sam jerked, gulped in a breath and promptly gagged, Dean turned his brother to the side and Sam threw up. Dean had never been happier to hear that disgusting sound.

"Oh thank God."Dean breathed in relief.

"Oh … God!" Sam groaned after the heaving.

He was so weak, Dean needed to sit him up and hold him in place as he breathed. He wanted to rub his aching chest but his arms weren't responding, in fact none of his muscles were responding. His head felt like it had cracked open and it probably had, when he fell. Too bad he couldn't put a hand back there to check, blasted muscle weakness!

"Dude, I know you've always wanted me to kiss you, but this was a shitty way to ask!" Dean quipped but his voice was thready. He unashamedly muzzled Sam's hair, the closest he would ever get to kissing his brother while both of them were conscious.

Sam was still greedily gasping, but he still managed to retort between gasps, "If you think rescue breathing and kissing use the same technique, then I really, really feel sorry for the girls you've kissed!"

Dean laughed, a shaky, completely hysterical laugh. It was either that or cry, and if he cried, then his siblings would fall apart.

"Rae?" Sam asked.

"She took one hell of a knock. I need to get you guys to a hospital."

"I'm okay." Sam groaned.

"Like hell!" Dean disagreed. He had noticed how Sam winced when he picked him off the floor, he had felt the bump at the back of Sam's head and he had certainly noticed that Sam was yet to move his limbs or really do anything more than breathe. He knew oxygen deprivation was not to be taken lightly.

Still holding Sam securely, Dean dragged the two of them until he was leaning against the bed on which Emily lay. He twisted his head to look at Emily. Her eyes were closed, her lips pinched in pain.

"Mimi?" he called softly. No answer. He felt Sam stiffen. Glancing down, he saw the panic and fear on his brother's face and it took all his bullshitting power for him not to have a similar expression. Instead he forced a calm he didn't quite feel, and using his most beleaguered voice, he complained. "I swear, this girl is the stubbornest, most pigheaded person I know! The minute I tell her not to fall asleep, she turns around and sleeps! Guess I should have told her to go to sleep!"

Sam knew Dean was trying to reassure both of them, but he still laughed, because it was so true. When it came to demands, Emily was contrary. She reminded them of that mouse in the kid's storybook 'Contrary Mary' who did everything upside down or backwards or opposite. Fortunately, Emily wasn't contrary by nature but only when approached wrong.

Dean called Emily again and this time he got an answer if the short hmm could be called an answer.

"You awake!"

"Mmhmmm!" that wordless mumble still managed to convey her distaste at being disturbed.

"Great!" the relief was palpable in Dean's voice.

"Sam?" she asked.

"I'm okay!" Sam answered for himself. His sister's voice was just a whisper; she sounded like she was in pain, and the fact that Dean was calling her Mimi meant he was worried about her, but Sam knew the answer she would give if he asked, the answer they all gave. "What about you?" he asked anyway.

"I'm okay!" she whispered.

He snorted in disbelief. The three of them were so predictable, it wasn't even funny anymore.

Dean leaned his head on the bed and Emily shifted until hers touched his. Whether she was seeking comfort or giving it, he didn't know. Either way he was glad. He closed his eyes debating how to go about getting them all to the car.

* * *

Madeline was currently standing in her great room which looked like a battle zone and she was sure those were blood drops mixed with the broken glass. She was thrown even though she had had an idea what to expect, having watched the action on her computer in the hotel she had checked into. There were remote viewing security cameras all over her house, installed when the poltergeist activity had become noticeable.

The video and audio had cut out after the unearthly sound and light faded and she knew the cameras had shorted or something. So the last she had seen of the siblings was Emily slumped against the wall, and Sam lying still on the floor. She did not know whether they were alive or dead, and she didn't know if anything else had happened to Dean because the utility room had no camera in it. She had driven back to her house with speeds she had never used before, her heart in her throat, morbid thoughts running through her head. What if they were all dead? How was she going to explain to the police, the presence of three dead kids in her house? Most importantly, what was she going to tell John?

So now she stood in her great room unnerved more by the silence than the destruction. She fortified herself by squaring her shoulders, jumped over the fallen chandelier and went to look for the young hunters.

Sam, finally able to move his arms, promptly began to rub his chest. He felt the wetness and looked down to see blood. He knew it wasn't his and he had noticed the way Dean was holding him with just his right arm, and how he had not tried to shake Emily awake.

"Dean? You're hurt, aren't you?"

"I got nailed, and not in the good way!" Dean quipped. Emily snorted a short laugh that she instantly regretted and Sam smiled fondly at his brother's ability to joke about everything.

Madeline who got to the room in time to hear Dean's pun was smiling too, a fond and relieved smile. How they could still joke and laugh was beyond her, but it was a relief to find them alive and it was endearing to see how close they were. The three of them looked like they had been put through the wringer, the youngest was lying on the bed, her head angled to touch the eldest brother's head, her eyes tightly closed. The middle one was being cradled by his brother, his shirt torn open, blood on his chest which he kept rubbing lethargically. The eldest was leaning against the bed, his head was touching his sister's and he was holding his brother with one arm, the other which had three 3 inch nails embedded in it was resting on the ground covered with blood. He was obviously the one who had made the nail crack.

"Hey!" Madeline spoke softly so as not to startle them. They still startled. Their eyes flew open, though Emily closed hers almost immediately.

Dean berated himself for dropping his guard even for just a moment, leaving him and his siblings vulnerable. If Madeline had been someone or something else, they would have been in big trouble. John would be very unhappy if he ever found out about this.

"Madeline! Sorry about your house." he apologised.

"No, don't worry about that. It's just a house, everything is replaceable. You guys really need to be looked at though."

Dean was not going to argue with that assessment. In answer, he stood up and gently pulled Sam to his feet. Sam swayed for a moment but steadied himself with a hand on his brother's shoulder.

When Dean was sure his brother was not going to crash back onto the ground, he bent to pick up Emily.

She tried to scoot away. "No, Dean, my legs are fine. I can walk!"

"Into walls maybe!" Dean retorted. "You have a concussion, Mimi; a bad one. This is not the time to assert yourself. Besides you let me carry you before."

"I'm not trying to assert myself! You're hurt too, Dean!" she whispered. "I only let you carry me before because I didn't know you were hurt."

"It's not serious, okay?" he sounded convincing even to himself.

"Okay!" she let herself be carried. She had to admit she was relieved.

"Need help, Sam? You can lean on me instead," Madeline offered. She was worried that Dean carrying his sister and supporting his brother would topple from their weights.

"No," both Sam and Dean answered. Surprisingly, it was true. Sam was only holding onto Dean's shoulder out of a younger sibling's need to be grounded by his elder brother and not for physical support.

Madeline's eyebrows shot up but she did not say a word. She moved to the side and let them pass through the door. She followed closely behind them, ready to provide help when they asked for it or if they fell.

"Madeline, can you get the doors?" Dean requested when they got outside.

"We're taking my car, and I'm driving!" she stated, sure she would be shot down.

"Okay!" Dean's acquiescence threw her for a second, but she run and opened the two passenger doors of her Dodge Caravan.

Dean had agreed because he realised he would not be able to concentrate on driving one handed, in the dark, on an unknown stretch of road, while keeping an eye on his siblings. Also, he didn't want to get blood in his baby.

"Sam, you're sitting up front!" he ordered his brother who didn't argue. Dean got into the back with Emily and Madeline slammed both doors shut, got behind the wheel and drove out the gate.

"Hey, Mimi, you still awake?"

"M'ti...ed!" came the mumble.

"I know! How about you sing us a song?"

A puff was her answer. Knowing her, it probably meant, "Leave me alone!"

"Come on," Dean coaxed, "otherwise me and Sam will start singing!"

She smiled and he thought she was going to call his bluff and tell him to go ahead and sing, but instead, she began to sing. Her voice was so low, he had to strain to hear what it was, "I been working double shift all night. Bees make honey, I'm making mine. Good women are busy all the time. I been working double shift all night, my line of work suits me fine!"

Dean laughed, "What is that? Is that All day and All night by Jakob Dylan? I'm sure he says good men not women!"

"Semantics!" she whispered at him. As he laughed some more, she continued to sing, her voice getting a little stronger with each line. He joined in after a while, but he kept his voice deliberately low, so Emily's was louder than his. "Split that apple and chuck that rind, pull no wishbone that ain't dry, my line of work suits me fine!"

"Sam?" he called to his brother.

"Oh God, no!" Sam said self consciously. He loved this song but no way was he singing with a stranger in the car. If it had been just the three of them he would have joined in. His siblings continued to sing.

Emily decided that when he wasn't bellowing out the song, Dean's voice wasn't so bad. Dean told her the dresser must have really hit her hard.

"Sweet you ramble, sweet you roll through the bedrock of my soul. I got more good luck than I'll ever use. All day and all night like a mule …"

Sam felt that in the case of Winchesters, the lyric should be 'bad luck' not 'good luck'.

"Madeline? Just how far is the hospital?" he asked.

She really hadn't been expecting any of them to talk to her and she startled before answering. "Err, I'm not taking you guys to the hospital. I figured you'd want to keep yourselves off the books, so I'm taking you to HCR. It's a Day Surgery Centre that's run by a friend of mine. I called ahead so he's expecting us. I hope you don't mind." she said.

"Oh! Err ... Dean?" Sam was unsure, so he deferred to the one person better suited to take charge.

"Will it be open?" Dean asked. He had not missed the implications of the word 'day' in Madeline's explanation.

"Well, its actual operational hours are 7 a.m to 6 p.m, but since extended recovery patients stay overnight, it'll be open, just not bustling."

"What kind of surgeon is this friend of yours?" Dean asked.

"An orthopedic surgeon, but there's other staff." She hoped some of them were there.

"Okay. How far out are we?"

"Five minutes."


	36. Chapter 36

The security guard was not surprised to see Madeline, though he raised an eyebrow at her passengers. He waved her in after a moment's hesitation. The Centre was glitzy, all concrete and glass, and Dean did not trust glitzy. As they neared the building, he glared at it as if that would make it less glam. Unbeknownst to him, Sam was also looking at the building suspiciously. They really were two paranoid peas in a pod.

Inside was the smallest and emptiest waiting room they had ever seen. Sam figured that it was because people came here on appointment and didn't need to wait. Clearly this was not the place for emergencies. It was nice to be in a waiting room where no one was trying to give you an airborne disease. Also, it did not smell too much like a hospital for which all three were grateful. Emily who had insisted on walking from the car dropped bonelessly in one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs and rested her head on the wall behind her. Her brothers sat in the chairs flanking her and Sam flung an arm over her shoulder and gently drew her to him until her head was off the wall and in the crook of his arm.

Madeline was talking to the woman at the admission desk, both glancing over at the siblings every other second. Then the other woman walked away. A minute later, she returned and handed over some things to Madeline who walked back to where the Winchesters were seated. She handed Dean a packet of Tylenol and three bottles of water, and gave Sam a blue scrubs shirt. Sam self consciously peeled off his destroyed shirts and pulled the scrub shirt on. He smiled his thanks to Madeline.

Dean wouldn't let Sam take any Tylenol, not knowing what kind of effect it would have, but he let him drink the water. He allowed Emily the painkillers, but cautioned her on drinking the water very slowly.

They'd been there less than three minutes when a shockingly thin, tall man walked up to them. He looked to be about forty-five with a receding hair line and sharp blue eyes.

"Heath!" Madeline jumped up. She and the man hugged, then he turned to the Winchesters.

"I'm Dr. Heath Roth." He looked them over quickly taking in the young man with nails in his arm, the ashen boy in the blue scrubs, and the girl sleeping in his arms.

Dean introduced himself and his siblings, using Bloom as their last name. Even though this wasn't a big public hospital, he didn't want the doctor freaking out when he discovered one of his clients was a dead guy.

"Come with me Mr. Bloom," the doctor requested, already turning to move, his god-complex apparent by the way he expected no questions.

"No! They go first." Dean said of his siblings.

The doctor turned with a shocked and clearly unhappy look on his face.

"Look, doctor, I'm not trying to be difficult. I know this looks bad," Dean waved his arm, "but at least we know what is going on with it. She on the other hand took a really bad hit to the head and he wasn't breathing when I found him, and I had to perform CPR on him." He finished softly, placating the doctor. Even speaking about the event made him nearly hyperventilate.

"I'm okay!" both Sam and Emily promptly said. Sam a little indignantly and Emily softly, without opening her eyes.

The doctor's demeanor immediately changed. "I'm sure you both are, but that's what big brothers do, they worry," he said gently, making Dean think the man might be a big brother too. "Now, since I'm going to look over you later, you might as well come with me now!" the doctor added, looking at Dean wryly.

Dean looked at him appraisingly. Yes, either the man was a big brother or he was intuitive enough to know Dean was not going to let his siblings out of his sight.

He and Sam helped Emily to her feet, and they followed the doctor only a few paces through a doorway, past a group of cubicles and straight into a small operating room. It was very disconcerting.

"I know it's weird for you guys, but unlike a standard hospital, here we see clients on appointment, so unfortunately we don't have exam rooms here. That back there was our pre-operation area, the clients change there then come in here ready for their procedure," the doctor explained sensing their unease. "It's intimidating, I know, but this is the closest thing we have to an examination room."

The only seating aside from the operating table were two backless stools with wheels on them. Sam and Dean took these while Emily got up on the bed. She was glad her brothers had come along. She would have lost it being in this freaky ass operating room without them; like her liver was going to be carved out or something!

Considering the information he now had, Heath would have liked to check Sam first, but by sitting on the stools, the brothers were clearly telling him to check their sister first.

* * *

The doctor got right in her face and Emily resisted the urge to lean back. The Q & A was the usual.

"Headache?"

"Yes."

"How bad? On a scale of 1 to 10?"

"If I close my eyes, its about an eight, when they're open, it's about an eleven."

"Make that ten and fifteen!" Sam spoke up, knowing his siblings, like him, were notorious for downplaying their pain.

Emily tried to glare at him, but the headache wouldn't allow it.

"Is that true?" the doctor asked already reaching for his flashlight which he shone in her eyes.

"Ow!" she exclaimed as her headache ratcheted up the scale.

Okay, now the doctor was worried. Emily's pupils were unequal in size and completely blown. No wonder her brother was concerned.

"Have you thrown up?"

"No, but I kind of feel nauseated."

Dean hadn't known that, and now he was getting impatient; for a surgeon, this Roth guy was extremely slow.

"For fuck's sake, I found her passed out, she's dizzy, she keeps falling asleep, and trust me, she doesn't know what you look like cos her sight's blurry and in case you missed it, she's got a goose egg on the side of her head!" Dean finally snapped.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed.

"No, Sam. God, I shouldn't have given Madeline control of the situation. We wouldn't be in this fake ass masquerading-as-a-hospital place!"

Sam got up and physically dragged his brother out of the room before he insulted the doctor next.

"Dean, calm down. The man is doing his job." Sam pinned his brother against the wall. He knew Dean was just letting him do it, because Sam's muscles still felt like they had atrophied and Dean could have taken him, if he'd wanted to.

"He's too bloody slow!" Dean did not struggle out of Sam's grip.

"I know you're tired and you're worried, but that guy is no more slower than any other doctor who isn't seeing blood. You know how doctors are living ghouls!"

"Are you saying I should have nicked Rae with my knife to draw blood?" Dean's eyes twinkled at the thought.

Sam laughed. "You wouldn't dare, but as a strategy, it would have worked! That doctor would be working so much faster! Anyway, we're here now, so let's take advantage of this place." Sam ended more seriously. He let go of his brother and leaned against the wall next to him.

"I would have felt better in a hospital." Dean said rather petulantly. He sometimes hated how reasonable Sam could be. It made Dean look like a rash douche.

"You're a dead felon, remember?"

"Not when I'm Bloom, not Winchester. Besides, hospitals mean more people, less scrutiny, easier chance of running out. How are we going to pay for this?"

"Hey, Madeline brought us here, I say let's let her worry about that. Our current concern is getting you and Emily are looked over."

"And you!" Dean was not taking any chances even though Sam looked recovered now.

"And me." Sam was not going to start an argument he knew he would never win.

They stayed there for a while, leaning against the wall and a little into each other, until a pained cry burst from the operating room. Emily!

* * *

Emily had watched her brothers go with wide eyes. She knew her brothers enough now, to know that an outburst like that from Dean meant that he was worried. He was probably also tired and the pain in his arm had to be downright awful. The doctor had been unfazed, something Emily gave him props for. Staying calm in the face of a Winchester's rage was a feat! He got his stethoscope.

"Is everything he said true? About your symptoms I mean!" Dr. Roth was not ready to hear another slur against his centre.

"Yeah, mostly."

"Have you got any tingling in any part of your body?" He asked while noting her heart action was abnormally slow.

"No!"

"Ringing in your ear?"

"No."

The doctor felt for the goose egg until he found it. He pressed a little on it and her short involuntary shout of pain brought her brothers running back in the room.

"What the hell?" they looked ready to murder the doctor when they saw the unshed tears in their sister's eyes.

"I'm okay!" Emily swallowed the lump and blinked away the tears. She did not want her brothers arrested for killing the doctor.

The doctor on his part got up and walked away quickly, no explanation given. Dean looked at Sam, his eyes asking, "What now Mr. Peace and Understanding?"

Sam shrugged. He couldn't sugarcoat this. He stood in front of Emily and held his head to hers. She closed her eyes and a tear slipped out. He wiped it away.

Dean leaned against the bed and threw a hand across Emily's shoulder in a show of solidarity. He wearily watched his siblings.

Emily was in pain, it was obvious to him and Sam, but that one tear was a just rogue runaway. Emily treated her tears like a rare commodity, she held onto them fiercely, shared them privately and only under intense pressure.

Sam was exhausted, and anything could be going on inside his body, that had been starved of oxygen, for how long, Dean didn't know. He had no idea how many minutes Sam had been out before he had found him. Sam could still be in danger.

Damn, sometimes, like now, Dean wished his siblings wouldn't act so tough. He wished he was articulate, so he could relay to this stupid doctor just how much help the three of them needed.

* * *

Heath strode to the waiting room. Madeline got up to meet him. He waved her down and walked to the desk. He rattled out a series of instructions to the woman and she raced off. He turned to Madeline.

"Maddy? Who are these kids? How do you know them? How can they all be hurt in such different ways? What really happened to them?"

"None of that matters Heath, can you help them or not?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't. The boys, yes, but they won't let me until their sister is okay, and I think I need to call Carys and Mark about her. What do I tell them?"

"That she fell out of a tree house? Say anything Heath, you're the one with the imagination! As for handling them, try firm and authoritative, they seem to respond to that."

Heath snorted, made the call and handed the phone to Madeline. He might have the imagination, but she had a golden tongue, she would get the Scotts here.

He returned to the operation room where he had left the mysterious trio. "So, listen up people, this is what is going to happen. Emily, I'm recommending a CT scan for you but it won't be for a while. I've instructed Helen to give you a gown, ask you a couple of questions and prep you for the scan. Then she's going to set you and Sam up in a recovery room where you, Sam will basically just be monitored, while you, Emily are going to have IV fluids administered for pain relief, for euvolemia maintenance, and to provide adequate cerebral perfusion pressure."

Hearing pain relief was enough to make Emily want to jump off the bed and race to find Helen. The stupid Tylenol was not working! Sam however, was not happy with the arrangements.

"But …" he began to object.

The doctor did not let him continue, "I know you're fine, but this will reassure your brother and get the three of you closer to getting out of here."

No other argument would have made Sam acquiesce. He helped Emily slide off the bed and the two left the room.

Dean looked at the doctor with new respect.

"I know you're worried that your sister might have more than a concussion, frankly I don't think so, but this is not my area of expertise, so the scan is the only way to tell. Unfortunately, both our radiographer and the radiologist aren't currently on site," the doctor explained to Dean who had not followed his siblings only for the purpose of interrogating the guy. "I asked Maddy to talk to them, she's very convincing and they live about fifteen minutes out, so they should be here soon. Until then, there's nothing that can be done for Emily. You know the drill for a concussion is rest."

Dean nodded. Yeah, the best thing for Emily was rest, though she would have to be woken up every two hours and asked questions. He knew how annoying that was. "What about Sam?" he asked.

"Sam's doing pretty good for someone who had CPR," the doctor was still skeptical about that, thinking maybe Dean had exaggerated.

"Well, he still had a pulse when I found him, at least I think I felt a pulse. I did CPR just in case I was imagining things. My dad says better safe than sorry." Dean was quick to explain, not wanting treatment to be withheld from his brother.

"Mmmm, that would certainly explain it. Well, I'm sure he's fine or as fine as someone who stopped breathing can be, but I've instructed he still be hooked up to a cardiac monitor for as long as he allows it," the doctor chuckled at this, having already noticed that Dean wasn't the only stubborn Bloom. "His blood pressure and sugar levels will be monitored closely, but truthfully, I'm not worried, since he's conscious and has been for a while, he's certainly oriented and mobile."

"Great!" Dean could finally say that things were now looking up.

"So please, let me take care of your hand now," the doctor implored.

Dean gave in. Later, he had to admit that Dr. Roth was good at his job. He carefully cut open Dean's shirt sleeve and had him remove it, leaving him in his tee. When he suggested an ultrasound, Dean quipped that he had nails in his arm not a bun in the oven! The doctor laughed, a loud booming sound that belied his size.

The ultrasound determined that one of the nails had nicked a bone but the damage would repair itself without intervention. Dr. Roth was quick to get the nails out, he let the wounds bleed for a minute then quickly but thoroughly irrigated them, making Dean hiss. After he was sure the wounds were clean, he applied a local anesthetic before he put in the approximation sutures. He applied antibiotic ointment and bandaged the arm. He then gave Dean a tetanus booster shot and wrote a prescription for him. Throughout the process, the two of them kept up an animated discussion about motocross, a topic the doctor was surprisingly well informed about.

Dean interrupted the doctor's final instructions, "I know the drill doctor, monitor the wound, keep it clean, dry it quickly, blah, blah, blah!"

"Fine!" the doctor laughed. He was beginning to like this cocky young man. "Let's go find your siblings."

As they walked to the radiology room, Dean asked the man whether he had any siblings. "I did. Her name was Rosie. She was twelve years younger than I was, so you can imagine our relationship! I could never see her as more than a child no matter how old she got. She and Madeline were best friends, and Maddy became my honorary baby sister. Rosie died two years back. She was in a car accident."

"I'm sorry." Dean said quietly. He never could imagine a world without Sam, and Emily had wormed her way into his universe and if she left it, he would be devastated.

"Yeah, me too," the doctor said softly. "Your siblings will be okay, Mr. Bloom. I'll make sure of it."

"Call me Dean."

* * *

"She won't remove her ring!" Helen reported the minute she saw the doctor. She and Sam were standing outside the radiology room, Sam had his arms crossed in front of him and was leaning against the door to the room, as if guarding it.

"She can't!" both Sam and Dean exclaimed, Sam in an exasperated tone that told Dean he had already told the woman this.

"All yours, doctor!" the woman threw up her hands and walked away to set up the room. These kids whoever they were sure were pigheaded.

"She absolutely can't take off that ring!" Dean turned to the doctor, their earlier rapport forgotten as the implications of Emily taking off the ring assailed his mind.

"She doesn't need to anyway. I'm afraid, Helen is a little zealous. This is a cranial CT scan after all. As long as Emily has no earrings, tongue piercings, and the like, it should be fine. Besides, the ring can always be taped."

Sam finally moved away from the door and the three of them walked in. Emily of course had fallen asleep, curled up on her right side. Helen had managed to place the cannula and had even re-braided Emily's hair.

"Before the ring came up, the two of them were bonding!" Sam explained the neat braid. Dean shook her awake.

"Hey Mimi, wake up!" She groaned and opened her eyes. "Who am I?" he asked.

"A pain in my ass!" she snarked. She knew the importance of the questions but just couldn't help being mouthy.

Sam snickered.

"I think you got me confused with Sammy!" Dean shot back.

"The name's Sam!" both Sam and Emily said, Sam indignantly and Emily in a perfect tonal mimic of Sam.

"As the eldest, I have the right to call you anything I want!" Dean decreed.

Both Sam and Emily knew being eldest had nothing to do with it this time, and that it would be a while before he'd stop calling them Sammy and Mimi.

"Robert Plant!" she said.

"What?"

"The lead singer for Led Zeppelin! I know you were going to ask that next."

"Smart-ass!"

Dr. Roth laughed. Again he wondered where Madeline had found these three. He made no comment about the scars on Emily's arms, now visible in the gown.

Helen came and led them to the room. As she hooked and connected his siblings to various machines and IVs, Dean flirted outrageously with her and even though his corny lines were making his siblings cringe with embarrassment, they seemed to be working on Helen. It was good though because it made her forgive Sam and Emily's intractability about the ring. When everything was set up, Dean situated himself in what was probably the word's most comfortable reclining chair. He would take this chair with him if he could. He would adopt it! Marry it even!

With an amused gleam in his eyes, Dr. Roth got up to leave. Helen did not even attempt to leave her perch on Dean's chair despite Sam's exaggerated yawns, Emily's real ones and Dr. Roth's theatrical foot tapping.

Dean wouldn't leave his siblings, not for a girl and getting Helen to leave the room was like tearing a superglue bandaid from skin. She left slowly and grudgingly and only after Dr. Roth had doused her with a cold reality check called getting fired. He left with her. The siblings needed their space, and he needed to talk to Maddy, find out about the Cohen's ETA.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was still awake and from their breathing, he could tell Emily was asleep but Dean was still awake. Sam shifted uncomfortably.

"You okay?" Dean finally asked him.

"Yeah!" he answered. Silence filled the room. When Sam had asked Emily to talk to Dean, she had done it the moment she got a chance. She did not wait for a perfect location, or a beautiful sunset, or any of that crap. Well, any time was good as any, why not try now?

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Yeah? For what exactly?"

"For shooting you."

"That wasn't you."

"But you said …"

Dean knew what he had said and he quickly realised Sam had misunderstood him, and had probably been nursing copious amounts of guilt about the wrong thing. So he interrupted, "Sam, the shooting wasn't really you. I know Ellicott amped up your emotions to levels that weren't normal. However, the anger you felt towards me, that was there to begin with."

"Yeah, it was," Sam admitted after a beat, "but it was more exasperation than anger really! I've always hated that you never question dad. I've never hidden that, from you."

"I know. Yet you've never asked me why! And people think you're the emphatic one!"

"So tell me."

There was such a long silence, that Sam thought Dean had fallen asleep and was never going to answer. Then out of the dark, his brother's voice deep and low said, "So you can have a choice."

Sam was stunned. He had never thought about that. Damn, he really was a selfish bastard to have never tried to see things from Dean's point of view. Now, he was beginning to understand Dean more. He had always thought Dean was unambitious, but now he knew Dean had sacrificed his grander dreams for his family, so his family could pursue theirs, revenge in John's case and normality, then revenge in Sam's case. Dean had retained the simpler dream of keeping his family together even though that was harder than it seemed.

He'd thought Dean was their father's puppet, but now he realised Dean obediently followed orders because one of them had to and by following them, he gave Sam a chance to question them, to explore a world beyond hunting, a world beyond their father's quest.

He'd thought Dean reckless, but now he realised every time Dean put himself in danger, it was out of a fierce need to keep his family safe.

It was never about Dean. Everything Dean did was for Sam and John and now Emily, so having Sam take his sacrifices for granted and call him a mindless soldier had hurt Dean more than the rock salt in that gun had.

He had probably understood more about Dean in this one night than he had in a lifetime.

"Dean?"

"Mmmm?"

"Thanks!" it was the only thing Sam could say. He hoped Dean would understand that it was a thanks for many things, but mostly for Dean being his brother.

"Go to sleep Sammy!" Dean said fondly.

Carys and Marc Scott did not make it to the hospital until an hour later, by which time all three Winchesters were asleep. When Heath came to get Emily, they all woke up. All three were out of sorts from the interrupted sleep. With Dean swearing like a sailor, Sam grumbling like a rabid dog and Emily whinging like a child. She didn't care what anyone said, she wanted to sleep. Fortunately the procedure didn't take long.

Once in the scan room, Mark Scott the radiographer, connected and started the contrast medium IV in Emily's arm, after which she lay on the platform. He disappeared to his room which was more crammed than usual, with the brothers, and Dr. Heath. Emily followed the given instructions precisely and the pictures were taken. The three Winchesters returned to their room, Emily was reconnected to the machines and IV, while Sam was deemed okay and didn't need to be reconnected. All three fell asleep almost immediately.

Carys Scott, the radiologist and wife to Mark Scott read the developed images and discussed the implications with Dr. Roth. An hour after their arrival at the centre, the Scotts were gone, their job complete, no questions asked.


	37. Chapter 37

Heath debated whether to wait before he told the Blooms the outcome of the scan or wake them up. He remembered their reactions at being woken up for the scan and decided it was best to wait, after all, there was nothing they could do. He could best use his time trying to find a solution. Time to make phone calls. By the time dawn rolled around, he was exhausted, but he had managed to find someone to help the Blooms, and it was time to tell them.

When he opened the door, Dean woke up and glared at him. He beckoned him out. With a low huff so as not to wake up his siblings, Dean stalked outside.

"What?" he asked ungraciously. Heath didn't blame him.

He broke the news quickly, and unemotionally, "The scan shows your sister has an epidural haematoma."

"Shit! Damn it!" Dean run a hand through his hair. He had expected a severe concussion, not this.

Heath was thrown. He had expected questions, along the lines of what is an epidural haematoma? What are its implications? What are the treatments? But this young man seemed to know all this. Heath found himself wondering again who these young people were.

"I was on the phone all night trying to find out the best solution and ..."

"It requires surgery, I know! Shit! Shit! Shit!" he began to pace. They didn't need this right now. He hadn't thought their fake insurance would cut it here, and fortunately it had not been required, thanks to Madeline, and he could easily have bullshitted their way out or they would have easily run, but now, with a surgery on the books, those weren't options anymore.

"Hey, stop pacing and listen to me!"

The doctor's tone made Dean stop. Sam was right, he was a sucker for orders.

When he saw he had Dean's attention, the doctor continued. "I don't know how you know or how much you know about haematomas, but I've talked to a number of neurosurgeons and most agree that surgery might be avoided. Your sister has high scores on both the Glasgow and Rancho Los Amigos coma scales and neither score is decreasing, she amazingly doesn't have a fracture, she has not presented with hemiparesis, nor has she had a convulsion. The haematoma is small, its midline shift is minimal and it doesn't seem to be actively bleeding."

"But you saw her pupils. And that headache was really severe." Dean objected. He was not going to kill his sister because of his eagerness to hit the road.

"That was before we administered the IV. The Mannitol which has infused by now reduces intracranial pressure, the acetaminophen is not just a pain killer, it helps maintain normothermia and we're watching her closely, what do you think all those machines are for? We don't have a neurosurgeon on staff here, but a friend of mine will be by later."

Dean opened his mouth to object but the doctor cut across him. "He's discreet! Besides, your sister needs his expertise!"

"How long does she have to be under observation?" Dean asked duly chagrined.

"Until she recovers to baseline."

"Is Madeline still here?"

"Yes, why?"

"I need to go get my car."

"I'm going home for a bit, I can drive you."

"Eer …" Dean wasn't sure how much Madeline had told Dr. Roth and having the man drive to Madeline's to pick up the impala might raise questions.

"I'll get Madeline up." Heath huffed and walked away.

"Thanks." Dean yelled at the retreating doctor.

Dean returned to the room and woke Sam up. "Hey, I'm going to get the car, then I'll go check us out of the motel."

"What? Why? What is wrong?"

"Mimi has an epidural haematoma …"

"Shit!"

"They're not going to operate, at least not yet, but she has to stay for observation."

Madeline poked her head through the door. Sam waved at her and she waved back. "Watch out for her, Sammy," Dean left his brother's side and walked out of the room.

* * *

Sam and Dean knew everything there was to know about mild head injuries and concussions, sprains, dislocations and broken bones, lacerations, bites and puncture wounds, having suffered each and every one of those over the years, but they knew so much about epidural haematomas because six years back, John had had one.

They'd been hunting an Arrach in Montana when it had gotten the drop on John and thrown him off a cliff. Dean shot the creature with consecrated iron rounds and together he and Sam had scrambled to where John lay. He was out, had a head wound that was bleeding like mad, and his pupils were different sizes and not reactive. The boys had stopped the bleeding, but John had began to convulse. At the ages of fifteen and nineteen, neither brother had seen someone convulse before and that had scared them enough to take their father to a hospital even though they knew he would chew them out for that decision.

As it turned out, it was the right decision, because John had an epidural haematoma that had required surgery. The surgeon had told them John might die. He hadn't, but he had been in a coma for two days and was too out of it to move for a further four days. They had skipped out of the hospital after ten days, and even then John was still experiencing motor problems. Sam and Dean had never been so scared ... up until then, John had seemed invincible to them.

They'd holed up at Pastor Jim's and it had taken John two months to recover properly. During the two days John was in a coma, the boys had researched epidural haematomas like they were surgical residents.

Sam like Dean hadn't thought Emily had one, because she had not presented most of the symptoms one should. He'd thought she just had a bad concussion. Well, that showed how unpredictable head injuries could be. However, if the doctors were not operating, then it must be a small haematoma. He hoped it stayed that way and resolved itself quickly.

He had the quickest shower in the history of showers and returned to the room and watched his sister sleep.

* * *

The music was terrible, the scenery was uninspiring. Dean was bored. "How did you know to come? You couldn't have been planning to return until morning, I saw your bag," he asked Madeline curiously.

"I was watching the exorcism."

"What? The movie?" Dean was genuinely puzzled. This woman just might be buckets of crazy. Just their luck.

"No, of the house, my house. We had security cameras installed and we can access them remotely. I was watching you guys from the hotel I was in!"

"What? You've got a video of us expelling the poltergeist?"

"Yes, you three are remarkable!"

"Well, do us a favour and destroy it. Okay?" he did not feel remarkable. He had gotten hurt and his siblings had nearly died, and one still might.

"Sure." Madeline agreed readily. She was not about to argue with him. He reminded her of John, in fact all three did, even the deceptively affable Sam and the deceptively sweet Emily. They were all dangerous.

Dean's phone rang. It was Bobby. He answered with a weary hey.

"What's wrong? Did the hunt go south? Sam? Emily?"

"We got the job done, the poltergeist is gone. Sam is okay. Emily will be. She took a hit to the head. You know hers isn't quite as hard as ours are, at least not yet." He tried to infuse joviality in his voice.

Bobby didn't buy it. "Concussion?"

Dean held his breath and let it out slowly. Even though Dr. Roth had tried to reassure him, he was still scared about Emily's chances. He remembered how bad John had been, he remembered that other doctor's voice telling him and Sam that John might most likely die. He remembered the terror of that time. His voice shook a little at the memories as he said, "It's an epidural haematoma," he paused for bit then continued, "but it's a small one. They're not even going to operate."

Bobby could tell Dean was shaken and was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to reassure Bobby. "Do you want me to come down?"

Dean would have given anything to say yes, but Bobby was still recovering from his own hunt and there was really nothing physical he could do. "No, don't worry about it. I've got it."

"Call me, okay?"

"Yeah. Take care of yourself."

"You too boy."

Dean hang up. Silence filled the car.

"John?" Madeline asked after the silence had dragged on too long.

"No, Bobby. A friend." he answered, while his mind supplied, "And more of a father than John!"

"Is he a hunter too?"

"Yeah, one of the best. He's semi-retired now."

"How long have you guys been hunting?" she asked, "If you don't mind me asking, that is?" she amended swiftly.

"Twelve years," he answered with a hint of pride and sorrow.

Madeline gasped. She didn't think he was older than twenty five. He must have started as a child.

"Sam hunted for five years before leaving for college. We've now been hunting together for nearly a year," he said flatly, but she sensed a strange mixture of sadness, fondness and pride.

Madeline wondered what had made the boy, Sam, return to this life.

"Emily is a newbie. This is her first official hunt, but her actual second. She sneaked off to one before. Saved Bobby's life too!" this time Dean's voice carried exasperation together with the fondness, the pride, and the sadness.

"Really? The way she moved, I wouldn't have taken her for a newbie!" Madeline said truthfully. She'd figured the girl had been actively hunting at least a year.

"That's because she's a quick study!" Dean said with pride. "And she's very determined!"

"Growing up with you and Sam must be very motivating!"

Dean's face fell. He knew Emily's motivation came from the same place as John's and Sam's. Revenge. Vengeance for those they had lost.

"We didn't grow up together," he said, and did not elaborate further. A part of him was glad she had not grown up with them and their dysfunction, while a part of him wished she had; having a sister was amazing, he wondered how different things would have been if they'd known her since childhood, how different he and Sam would be, how different Emily would be. He was glad she had had a childhood, yet he was somewhat sad they hadn't been part of it. He was glad and proud that she had grown up independent, strong and smart, but he was a little sad he hadn't contributed.

He loved Emily, but that small, unselfish part of him wished he'd never met her. Yes, he was glad her light had come into their darkness, but it saddened him too. He wished her life and theirs had not collided the way they had. If never knowing her meant she would never learn about this life, he would willingly let her go. It would break his heart, but he'd do it.

They were at the gate, Madeline let them in and drove up beside the impala. Dean didn't know the etiquette rules for this situation. Did he offer to go in with her? Did he thank her for the ride, get into his car and drive away? Damn it, social rules were impossible.

Madeline helped him out, "I know the house is a mess, but the kitchen is fine. I can make you breakfast before you go. You can even have a shower if you want."

He got out of her car and stood undecided. "Come on!" she waved him in, "I won't bite, and it won't take long! I won't expect you to make small talk either, I have two teenagers who don't talk to me, I'm used to it."

Dean laughed, finally at ease, the woman had read his mind. He grimaced when he saw the great room. "I've always hated that chandelier!" Madeline said dismissively and Dean believed her. However, he couldn't escape the fact that the woman's house was trashed.

"I'm sorry we didn't clean up."

"Oh you did. You got rid of the poltergeist. You cleaned up good. This?" she waved her hand around, "I'll get people to clean up and repair the damage."

"They shouldn't remove the bags from the walls," Dean cautioned.

"Okay. What was in them anyway?"

"Why? You wanna make some?" he laughed.

"Well, never know when such knowledge might come in handy!"

Dean told her and she scrambled to get a pen and wrote down the list at the back of a cook book. She then quickly whipped up a breakfast that made Dean miss his mother with an intensity he hadn't felt in a while. True to her word, Madeline did not start a conversation, but Dean soon got bored with the silence.

"How do you know our father anyway?" he was genuinely curious.

"If I told you, he'd have to kill you!" she said.

"Oh, you're a funny one!" Dean laughed.

Madeline grinned, "We met twelve years ago. I was on holiday in Savannah, with my parents and my kids, Peter, my husband was joining us later. John was there hunting a spirit as I later found out when it tried to kill both me and my mom and he saved us with the most ridiculous thing … salt!"

"Yeah, most people find it absurd that salt dispels many evil things."

"I know! I did too, but since I saw it happen with my own eyes, I'm a believer. We moved to this house five months ago and the weird stuff began two months later. At first things were moved from their places, or broken, and we usually blamed one of the kids. The activity began increasing in intensity and I thought it might be supernatural, but Peter thought I was nuts especially when I started pouring salt everywhere. Then it began targeting him and he agreed I call John. I didn't know he had children by the way. It was hard to imagine."

"Yeah, well, he did, he does. Why didn't you move?"

"That was never an option because then a clueless family with no knowledge of these things might move in. What if they got killed?"

"And your children? Weren't you worried about them?"

"My eldest two are at college, first and sophomore years, and I made sure my youngest was rarely here. These past three months have been the best of her life, sleepovers, visits with the grandparents, she's had a blast. She's going to get a rude awakening now!" Madeline laughed.

Dean made a funny sound, between a laugh, a snort and a huff. This woman was a good mom and a noble person.

She got up and left the room, then returned with an envelope and handed it to Dean.

"What's this?" he asked refusing to take it.

"Our way of saying thanks! Peter okayed this as well."

"What? We don't do this for pay!"

"I know, but you deserve it."

"I can't take this."

"You can, and you will. You saved my life and my family's lives. I can never repay you and your brother and sister and this is the least I can do."

"But …"

"Take it. Trust me, we won't miss it. With your lifestyle I'm sure you need it and deserve it more than we do. Think of Sam and Emily."

Dean took the envelope. "Thank you," he said. Then he stood up to leave.

She walked him to the front door. "I need to stay here, to let in the workers and supervise the repairs, but I'll swing by the centre later on," she said.

"You don't have to."

"I know, but I want to, besides, my kids are not here so I've adopted you three for the time being!"

"So that would make me the sophomore, Sam the first year and Emily the kindergartner? Oh ho, she'll kill you!" Dean laughed as he pictured that. He got into his car and drove away still chortling. He went to the motel and packed up, making sure not to leave anything behind. He drove back to the centre, much to Helen's delight.

* * *

When Sam had told Emily that she had an haematoma, a part of her had been relieved that she was not being a baby, that her headache was a sign of something serious. Another part of her felt guilty that she was the reason they were not going to leave the town as soon as they would have liked. She did not want to be a burden, but she had somehow managed to become one on the hunt. As if sensing her feelings, Sam had told her, getting hurt on a hunt did not make her weak. After all, they had all gotten hurt. What mattered was that they had finished the job.

When Dean returned, he reiterated Sam's words and the three hunkered down for the hospital stay, secure in the fact that they had saved a family.


	38. Chapter 38

The Winchesters were very private people, but privacy was the one thing they didn't get. Madeline was practically always in their room. The boys loved her because of her food and gentleness. Emily, who spent most of the time sleeping, liked her because her brothers did. Dr. Roth popped in whenever he was on break. He apparently enjoyed their company. When he'd told them, they thought he was being sarcastic, but he wasn't. They soon found out that the man had a quirky sense of humour that broke free in their company. Helen too found any excuse to come to the room. By now she had figured that Dean was just flirting harmlessly and she was never going to have any sort of relationship with him, but she still liked the attention. No one else was allowed to come to the room. They probably thought the Winchesters were a visiting celebrity or something.

The three of them were also extremely energetic people and being cooped up in a small room was their definition of hell. It wasn't so bad for Emily at first because she did spend much of her time sleeping. She told her brothers they could leave the centre and explore the town, and find things to do but they wouldn't leave her alone. At the end of the stay, all three were going stir crazy, with Dean being the worst hit and Sam the least. They practically lived for the moments Emily went to radiology for her MRI scans. The only positive about the situation was that Dean couldn't skip on his medication, and his wounds were seen to everyday.

By the time the neurosurgeon, who came to the centre every afternoon said it was safe for Emily to be released, the three were more than ready to leave. It had only been three and a half days. Any longer and they were going to break out of the centre. Screw the consequences.

They didn't even see the bill, which was cleared by Madeline and the yet to appear Peter. They had to leave at night when no one else was around.

"This doesn't mean you can go running into walls or whatever happened to you." Dr. Roth cautioned like a grandfather. He had never attached like this to any of his patients and he had been a doctor a long time. "You have to take things slow, let yourself heal. Take your medication."

"You know I will Dr. Roth." Emily laughed. She was feeling great. Going through the forced near total bed rest had been hell but the results were good. The headaches still assailed her, but they were now bearable with painkillers. The neurosurgeon had said it would be a while before they went away completely.

"Only because Sam will remind you. Don't think I haven't noticed how bad you and Dean are at looking after yourselves!"

"Hey!" Dean protested, while Sam smiled. They shook the doctors hand, hugged Madeline and Helen and got into the car.

"Take care of yourselves, you hear?" Madeline said, with tears in her eyes. She owed these three kids everything.

"Sure thing."

The car started with its throaty purr and the three were off.

"Let's not do that again, okay?" Dean said as they exited the town fifteen minutes later.

"Which part?" Sam asked.

"The whole thing. You two scaring me to death, getting stuck in a hospital room for years, having no time to ourselves!"

"Delicious meals that were also healthy, hot water in the shower, free wifi and cable!" Sam added.

"All of which would have been more enjoyable if we were not constantly entertaining other people!" Dean quipped.

"Yeah!" Emily agreed. Everyone had been nice, but the attention had gotten a little cloying.

"You two are just antisocial!" Sam laughed.

"Please! We saw you roll your eyes when Madeline walked in this morning!" Emily shot back.

Sam smiled guiltily. Yeah, maybe they were all antisocial. Dean turned on the radio, not too loud in deference to Emily. The third song that played got them all singing. It's what you value, by George Harrison.

_Someone's driving a 450_

_And his friends are so wild_

_They're still in their stick shifties_

_But they feel they have much more style_

_But I've found . . ._

_It's all up to what you value_

_Down to where you are_

_It all swings on the pain you've gone through_

_Getting where you are_

_It's all up to what you value_

_In your motor car_

_It all rests on what it's cost you_

_Getting where you are_

_It's what you value_

_Someone's driving a 6-wheeler_

_Seems the world is all blurred_

_Knows he's in a show stealer_

_With a sound that's uncompared_

_And I've found_

_It's all up to what you value_

_Down to where you are_

_It all swings on the pain you've gone through_

_Getting where you are_

_It's all up to what you value_

_In your motor car_

_It all rests on what it cost's you_

_Getting where you are_

_It's what you value._

**If someone had asked each one, what he or she valued, the answer would have been the same. Each other**

** ~the end~**


	39. Epilogue

_An impatient knock at the door sent the young man, who most knew as Nathan Wood, running to open it. His eyes flashed black when he saw who it was. With a meek half bow, he let the man in. The man began bellowing as soon as the door closed._

_"Damien, what the hell is going on? What is the hold up? Why isn't my asset downstairs like I expected?"_

_"I can't find her!" the voice was shaky, the owner cowering._

_"What? She's an eighteen year old human! She's more or less still a child! How hard can it be finding her?"_

_"She's cloaked! I can't locate her through scrying."_

_"I'm aware of that!" The man went silent in anticipation for more information. When he realised none was forthcoming, he spoke in a quiet but cold, dangerous voice, a voice that was more of a warning than the question asked. "Tell me you've used other methods?"_

_Damien's silence was telling. He could have lied, but his master was an ace of lies and bullshit and could sniff out a lie even as it was being thought up._

_The man exploded. "You're a bloody useless idiot. All this time? What the hell have you been doing? Just scrying? For fucks' sake, even the newest members in the ranks can do that. There are so many non-paranormal ways to find a person."_

_"Please, I'll find her," Damien was pleading now._

_"No you won't." The man waved a hand and black smoke spewed out of Nathan's mouth and collected in a pulsating swirl near the ceiling. Then it became grey and cloudy, before dramatically erupting into slivers of smoke that dissipated quickly. Damien the incompetent demon was gone, not returned to hell, but destroyed. He had ceased to exist. Nathan Wood was awake now, and pleading with the man to let him go._

_"I can't do that! Finding good meat-suits for my minions is very hard these days. Almost as hard as finding good help."_

_Nathan tried to run, since negotiation was not doing him any good, but he found he was stuck to the spot. Another cloud of black smoke appeared from below his feet and forced its way into his mouth. He gagged for a moment before his soft brown eyes went completely black. "Hello Gray," the man greeted. "let's see if you'll do a better job than your predecessor!"_

_"Yes, master."_

**A/N: Yes, we've come to the end of this story. I will start working on the second as soon as I can. Thank you for coming with me on this journey. I hope you like it so far. **


End file.
